As the Ruin Falls
by Thristle
Summary: Beka learns that her last 'encounter' with Tyr brought on some unexpected consequences. What if it wasn't the Abyss, but something... different? Alternate season 4 ending, starts somewhere after 'The Worlds Turn...' Beka&T.Rhade pairing, eventually.
1. Disclaimer

**As the Ruin Falls**

_All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.  
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.  
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:  
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn. _

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,  
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:  
I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--  
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.  
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making  
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back  
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains  
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

**C S Lewis**

**Disclaimer for all chapters:** I don't own _Andromeda_ and it's characters. If I did, season 5 would never happened (or, to be precise, it would have been totally different). And season 4 would end differently. How? Well, this is one way in which I'd like the story to be told...

Rating:T; violence will appear later on, mature themes, etc.

Enjoy reading and if you liked something, leave a review.

This is my first fanfic, English is not my mother tongue so excuse any grammar or vocabulary mistakes. I'm trying to improve myself with every new sentence. Thank you for your patience.


	2. From what I've tasted

**Chapter 1: From what I've tasted of desire**

_After all the enemies have been defeated,_

_There is still but one left to conquer:_

_The one within._

_Admiral Abel Taur-Kosthev, CY 2541_

She opened up her eyes and there it was again – that queer sensation. Beka Valentine was absolutely sure she hasn't been drinking the night before. She was as sober as she could ever be. Yet the sensation was still there. And it was getting stronger.

She took a long breath but it still didn't go away. She bit her lip, trying not to think too much. Her shift was about to begin in an hour and she was really not in a good shape. Dylan would probably understand – after all she had been through, after the crazy, stupid things she had done… But she didn't want to show the weakness. Not again. Not with that other Nietzschean aboard.

Slowly, with utmost carefulness, she lifted herself from the bed. Oh, the nausea. A panicked thought run through her mind, one wicked image. She chased it back to the dark corner it came out of. Her legs touched the floor and once she almost stood up, the room whirled around her like some carousel. She sat back, disoriented.

_What is wrong with me?_

The nausea attacked again and Beka run to the bathroom, holding her lips closed with a hand. How awfully humiliating.

_Must be something I've eaten._

In front of the mirror she wiped her mouth and looked into the glass, finding a very, very worn woman staring back at her. Black circles under her eyes. Hair in chaos. A wraith of the old Beka. Someone might think she's taking Flash again.

_No weakness. Not again._

Twenty minutes later she was ready for duty, the paleness covered up with a load of makeup. Not too great a way out, but has to do for a little while. Later, she may ask Trance about it.

Or maybe not.

* * *

"Beka, are you feeling well?" Trance looked genuinely concerned. Ever since she changed the color, she became more mature and less things could be hidden from her. Beka thought that at times she preferred the purple, happy-go-lucky, tailed version of Trance Gemini. 

"Sure," she answered and was trying to walk past the golden girl, but Trance held her arm in a gentle but firm grasp.

"Really?" she asked again, looking deeply into Beka's eyes.

"Are you asking because…" Beka lowered her voice as she saw Rhade walking in the corridor adjacent to the one they were standing in, "I just got my love life screwed by an uber-egoistic Nietzschean son of a very well born bitch? Or am I just looking like something a Nighsider recently spat out?"

Trance knew she was not supposed to smile at that remarks.

"A little bit of both, I guess," she answered. "Just visit me in the Med as soon as your shift is over, ok?"

Beka sighted.

"All right. All right!" as Trance let go of her arm with a radiant smile, Beka waved her hands in the air. "Promise it won't be another one of your famous insightful psychoanalysis. I don't think I can stand anyone messing with my head right now."

"Just a medical check up," Trance shrugged her shoulders, turned around and walked away. Had she still her tail, it would have been waving around with sheer pleasure.

* * *

It has been a busy shift. 

At the end of it Beka was eyeing the sole reason for the whole trouble and was too tired to even get herself round to hating him. The Nietzschean was not eyeing her back, but she was sure he knew she was watching.

She just stopped for a while with trusting his species, period.

Got much too exposed for her taste. Everything outside, bowels and all, mind and heart. Public vivisection, no sedatives. Her proverbial bad taste in men once again proved itself to be… well, yes. Proverbial.

It has been a busy shift.

Bounty hunters were a real pain in the neck and she had to take Andromeda through five slipstream jumps to finally get rid of them. That is the part of them Rhade didn't shot with the missiles. Still, they were on the run and you just couldn't buy enough decent – repeat, decent – missiles when you are on the run. And the prices are just murderous. That is, you can kill after hearing them uttered by some dirty Nighsider on a stinking drift. Dylan would not like her killing the merchant, probably. As if she cared.

Anyway, they had to save the missiles for worse. Better or worse, Dylan would say, but Beka started to believe only in the latter part of the saying.

Beka stretched out her arms, the bones gave out quiet knocking sounds when they clipped into their right places. The muscles on her back were aching and yes, she could use a nice massage or two. She stepped out of the pilot's chair – and the knees bend underneath her, dragging her down.

Dylan lunged towards her, but it was Rhade with his Nietzschean speed that eventually caught her before she hit the floor. Besides, he was standing closer.

"I'm fine," she muttered. There was that nausea again, the breakfast making it's way outside. "I'm fine, damn it! Let me go!"

If he had, she would land on the deck, she was sure of it. But she didn't want him to touch her. _Not again_. Not ever.

"Beka," Dylan put his big hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should see Trance."

"I was just getting there!" she shouted. The anger seemed to calm down the nausea. She saw Dylan smirking, a face she thought he was not capable of. The do-gooder and all that.

"Mr. Rhade, could you please escort Captain Valentine to the Med? I think we are past the worst with the bounty hunters. For now."

Beka grinded her teeth but eventually said nothing.

* * *

"Don't you have something better to do?" Beka was walking straight, determined to show Rhade that she was fine. 

"Actually? No," he answered. Always a step behind her, keeping an eye on her. It did make her feel a bit awkward, if just for a nano-second.

"Are you always following the orders?" she wanted to tease him, just a tiny bit.

"Aren't you?"

Beka growled.

"Nietzscheans!… Stubborn," she stopped as she realized she can't call him 'selfish'. She bit her lip. He cocked his head to one side and raised left brow, waiting for the rest of the insults with great curiosity.

She growled again, waved her hands above her head and quickened the walking pace.

Trance was waiting for her. And – to Beka's surprise – the golden face lit up with smile on the sight of Rhade.

"Beka! Do come in, please," Trance showed Beka the way with her hand. "Thank you, Telemachus, for bringing her here. I got the feeling she might get a little…"

"Lost on the way?" he finished for her.

"Enough, already!" Beka shouted from the back of the Med. "Came here for chit-chat, Rhade?"

"I'll go now," Rhade bowed his head to Trance and she replied with a smile. "Good luck with her," he added in a whisper.

"I got used to," Trance whispered back, winking.

* * *

"So?" asked Beka, after Trance run all the tests on her, which took way too long. Fifteen minutes, but still way too long. "What is it? Am I going to live, die or what?" 

Trance smiled. A bit faintly for her usual self.

"Beka. Have you experienced nausea? Usually in the mornings? And general fatigue?"

"Duh. That's why you wanted me here, right? So, what is it?"

Trance touched Beka's hand with hers.

"You are with child, Beka."

And there it was, the queer sensation again. And a thought: Yup, he truly was a warrior, an alpha, you have to handle him that. His seed managed to get through all the defenses you've put. Silly, silly girl.

The fruit of desire.

Come, reap.

* * *

If you liked it, if you did not - leave a review and tell me what you think... 


	3. You know I know

**Chapter 2: You know I know you know I know you know**

_There are no facts, only interpretations. _

_from Nietzsche's Nachlass_

"I'm not going to ask, but…" Beka felt her throat went absolutely dry. "You did check it more than… twice?"

Trance nodded. Beka let out a long sight.

"I wouldn't call it a rape, you know?" she started talking, just for the sake of it. Because Trance was listening. Because it was Trance, not anyone else. "I wanted it. I wanted it very, very much. I guess… I guess it could be said that I seduced him. Imagine that? He once said that he could never feel attracted to a human female. Well, think again, you selfish…"

She took a deep breath.

"But I don't understand. I was protected. I always am."

_Don't want to repeat the mistake of mommy dearest._

"How could he… How could it…"

Trance still had that reassuring smile of hers, but no answers.

"Nietzscheans." Beka almost spat the word out.

"Oh. Oh, no, Beka," Trance waved her hands. "Do not blame the whole race for one man's sins. Don't let the anger blind you… you see this as a curse, but you can also see this… as a miracle."

"A miracle!" Beka sat up straight. "Made pregnant by a treacherous chauvinistic bastard! Oh, yeah, some miracle! Thank you, I'll pass!"

Trance's eyes widened.

"Beka… You are not thinking of…?"

"Getting rid of this…?" Beka asked furiously and than slowly began to calm down. "No." She said eventually. "I can't. I'm not…"

Trance embraced her and for a brief moment Beka felt warmth, a pleasant, sedative sensation that eased the tension she was harboring the entire day.

"Don't tell anyone, ok?" she muttered.

Trance took a step back.

"It will show, in three months or so," she reminded. "And you must be very careful. Do not overwork yourself."

"Don't tell anyone," Beka repeated. "Please?"

"Until it shows."

"Well, then it's another story, now is it?"

* * *

"Boss. What an unusual… Choice of meal."

Two weeks have passed and no one noticed, though Beka suspected that Rommie knew from the start. And now this. Harper. In a canteen.

"Fried eggs with jam. Unusual indeed," Dylan sat at the other side of the table. Funny. She was trying to eat at times when the other senior crew members were busy. And now… They all happened to turn up here, just when she was having her very own fried eggs with jam…

"And pickles," added Harper. "Boss, are you pregnant?"

And he laughed. It was supposed to be a joke.

She laughed back.

"Good one, Harper. You've outdone yourself this time."

They were all giggling, a much needed moment of rest. Beka relaxed a little, smile fixed on her face, eyeing the group gathered around her. Just in case.

She caught Rhade's gaze. He was smiling, true. But there was something… Odd. The way he looked at her… Didn't evade the stare she gave him… Maybe he knew? Maybe the Nietzscheans had their own ways of recognizing a pregnant female? Maybe it was the pheromones, whatever.

Beka ate only the pickles, chatted for a while about subjects absolutely mundane, got inexplicably grateful to Trance who also ordered eggs with jam (which surprised everyone, as she was seen only consuming alcohol) and stated they were delicious. Then she excused herself and left.

One positive thing: the nausea did disappear almost completely in the past week.

* * *

The smell on the drift made her sick. Again. It didn't bother her in the past, but in her current state… It was horrible. For once she knew how a Nietzschean feels in such environment and she kind of felt sorry for Rhade. Kind of.

Dylan send them on the Maru to buy some supplies for Andromeda; Harper gave a long list of spare parts that were 'absolutely essential' but was not so eager to come along. Rhade offered his presence and there they were, on a stinking drift, with Beka hoping not to puke anytime soon.

The Nighsider they were talking to seemed very undecided. Beka was sure he was lying and really didn't have half the things he promised to sell. Still, there was a fair chance of cutting some sort of a deal. Not perfectly lucrative, but beggars can't be choosers. And the bar they were sitting in had quite good music.

The Nightsider was shooting Rhade suspicious glances, nervous like a pack of rats.

"He growled at me."

Beka sighted.

"I'm sure he did not. It's just the regular way he looks like. Sulky. Now," she waved her hand in front of Nightsider's face to get his attention, "look. Here. Thank you. Now. Do you have the thing or not?"

"I… I need to check. Be right back."

Beka turned around to face Rhade.

"You are scaring the merchants," she noticed. "Quit doing that."

And before he could answer, she ordered a drink from a passing waitress (dressed like a porn star in a very, very low budget home movie… Or something Harper would come up with for his dream erotic fantasy). When the glass filled with brownish liquid arrived on the table in front of her, she reached for it. Maybe – just maybe – it will soothe her sore stomach.

Rhade grabbed her by the wrist.

"You should watch that," he said. "You may harm the baby."

Beka froze. She could react in many ways. She thought of shouting at him: what are you talking about? How dare you insinuate such a thing? Are you crazy?... But it was pointless. The grip on her wrist was firm but gentle. And there was genuine concern in his voice.

"You know," she stated the obvious.

"Actually, you've just proven this to me," he explained and it really made her furious. "I was not completely sure before."

She jerked the hand of his grip and stood up. "You double-faced… You sneaky… You… You…" suddenly out of words, she stormed out of the bar, leaving him at the table, with quite puzzled expression on his face.

* * *

She was walking fast, not paying much attention where she was going and that was the first mistake. No, wait. The first mistake was getting out of the bar. Wandering into the shabbiest part of the drift was the second.

_Stupid Rhade! Stupid Beka. Oh, when did you became so gullible, Valentine? Next time you know it you'll be telling everyone about your mum. And showing pictures._

"Something for the crippled?..."

A short man stood before her, dressed in rags, head covered by an ugly, large hat. He stunk, but that was nothing new on this drift.

"Sorry," she replied, trying to walk past him. "Not today."

"I'm sure you can find something…" a voice from behind made her turn and then a hand grabbed her and pushed to the wall.

_Nice, Valentine. Really nice._

She reached for the gun, couldn't grab it, so she settled for hands. She plunged her elbow into the man's stomach. He let out a mumbled curse and his grip on her loosened a bit. But there was another one.

_Come on, Valentine. You were in worse mess that this one. Don't be a whinny._

She kicked him hard in the groin and watched him bend in two with sadistic satisfaction.

_That's what you get, you son of…_

A third one. She didn't notice. Still held by the weight of the one she punched, she couldn't move much. And the third man was approaching, with a smile that was showing the all three teeth he still had. He also had a knife.

_Damn it, Beka. You really are a whinny._

Someone grabbed her attacker and threw him on the opposite wall, as if he was rag doll. He hit the metal with a loud thud and finally laid underneath, limp.

Beka pushed the moaning would-be-rapist away from her and sighted with relief when his weight was lifted. She looked up to see Rhade, his hand reaching to her.

"Thanks," she muttered. But she didn't take the hand. "Let's get out of here."

"The hormones," he said with a smirk and she looked at him puzzled. "I knew you were pregnant because of the hormones. Still, I couldn't resist."

He started to walk away. She needed a moment to sink the words in. Then she run after him. "What!"

He kept on walking, but at a reasonable pace so that she would not end up panting. "If you really want to keep this fact a secret for as long as it is possible, Rebecca," he raised an eyebrow, "you should work on your reactions. And by the way… Alcohol is bad for the child."

Somehow all the insults she knew were too mild.

* * *

Out of the shadows, a man was watching, quietly. The Nietzscheans had supreme hearing and he didn't want to be detected. Not now. Not when he's finally found what he's been paid to find.

He checked if the visual evidence was recorded. He watched the clip again than froze it and touched the screen gently.

Everything will work out. Now that he found her.


	4. A Vestige of the Though

**Chapter 3: A vestige of the thoughts**

_Women are quite able to make friends with a man; but to preserve such a friendship - that no doubt requires the assistance of a slight physical antipathy. _

_from Nietzsche's Human, all too Human_

If Dylan was not fully content with the fact that Beka and Rhade returned without most of the needed supplies, he did not bother to show this. There were other drifts, other renegade colonies willing to sell things to outcasts. They'd survive. It was not a close call.

She was sitting on the Maru, feeling much more comfortable within the freight's walls than on the Andromeda. After all she grew up here. It was the place she knew best.

She was reading an old horror novel. Paperback, torn edges, stains on the pages. She knew it almost by heart, but that didn't matter. The book was something solid in a world that just kept getting more and more crazy. She needed this stability, even if it was made of paper.

He deliberately made some noise walking. In other circumstances she would have never heard him coming. She looked up, closing the book. Rhade was standing in the door, dressed more casually than his usual self: no uniform whatsoever. He was still looking good, though. Even in a grey T-shirt.

"I thought that maybe you'd like to talk," he said. "Away from Andromeda's sensors."

"What makes you think I'd like to talk with _you_?" the moment she uttered those words, she felt sorry. She was really turning softie.

"It is Nietzschean, isn't it?" that was his answer. Sort of 'you hurt me—I hurt you back' game. Only his initial intentions were not those of bringing harm and she could tell that from the way he looked at her.

That concern, again.

"You know it is," she looked away, evading his eyes. "It's Tyr's."

He sat down on the stairs. "It was…" he was looking for the right words, finally settled for next best thing, "the logical explanation."

_Oh really!_

She said nothing. Instead, she focused on his bone blades, now folded against his forearm. She contemplated their sharpness and felt cold, deep down inside. He caught her watching.

"They fully develop in mid-puberty," he answered the unspoken question in her eyes. "They are still quite soft on an infant. You don't need to worry. You _are_ a strong woman, Rebecca."

"Strong," she repeated. "Like a Nietzschean?" And when he hesitated, she continued. "You know what? Tyr once cooked me a dinner. Fine with me. Nice food, really tasty. It was one of those times that I thought something WILL happen. And you know what? He had to ruin it all by saying that he could never be attracted to a human female! Where's the sense in that!"

_There. I said it. I just told another Nietzschean that I wanted to screw one of his kind. Good going, Beka. Really, really thoughtful of you._

"You are a strong woman, Rebecca," Rhade repeated, locking eyes with her. "And, eventually, he recognized your strength."

"Oh," she just didn't know what to say. Rhade got up and walked closer.

"Your strength must have impressed him. You must know that for a Nietzschean, the preservation of the genes is crucial. If he found you worthy, it means that you are on a par with a Nietzschean."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.

He was now very close and she had to lift up her head to look him in the eyes.

"I was hoping it would," he admitted. "But understand one thing, Rebecca. No self respecting Nietzschean male would endanger the life of his mate. Especially if there was the possibility of her carrying his child."

_Why are you saying this?_

"So it's all calculation for you," she bit her lip. Damn that Nietzschean, so close to her. "Pure species preservation, no emotions included? You wouldn't endanger your mate only because she could be carrying a little Rhade?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if intrigued by her remarks. "Calculation? I guess you can call it that way. But I…"

"Ermmm… Boss?" Harper was standing in the doorway with an expression that combined bewilderment and repulsion.

Beka imagined how the final outcome of the conversation might have looked like and gave herself a mental slap in the face. Enough, enough already!

_Enough damn Nietzscheans in my life!_

* * *

Rhade knew he was recently acting out of his mind and that irritated him—to say the least. Not being able to find a decent sparring partner (and he didn't want to ask Dylan for the fear of beating up the Captain: he might take it too personally, considering his past with a different Rhade), he engaged into a series of personal exercises that could resemble a ballet for an onlooker. It was strenuous, it took time and energy—and it cleared his mind a bit. And that was the most important thing at the moment.

It's been a while since he felt this way around a woman.

It sort of came as a surprise. True, she was an attractive specimen of her species, her body showing promises of a good mother, her actions proving the strong genes. But he has seen other women like that, some of them pure blood Nietzschean, but he never reacted so strongly. Then came the pregnancy and Rhade thought he found the answer: he was reacting to another Alpha—a one he held personal grudges against—that marked his territory. Since another Alpha found the female attractive, he also adopted the perspective.

That was how he tried to explain himself the desire to mate with Rebecca Valentine. Purely biological urge that made him act like an idiot.

The cold showers did help. Not in the long run, though.

Pregnancy was another matter. The hormones added to her attractiveness. She was not only strong and beautiful, she was radiant. Rhade remembered his wife carrying their firstborn under her heart—and it was exactly the same ambience of light.

The thought of Justine threw him out of balance and he paused in the middle of the gym, suddenly lost. Shirtless, he could see the edge of the scar, running from the navel down his left tight. He should have died that day; it would have been a fair trade. Thought by a Nietzschean it sounded like a blasphemy, but that's how he viewed it. For when he woke up in the make-shift hospital, he knew he couldn't protect those he should have. They were on the surface, he was high above the Terazed and he couldn't save them from harm.

From death.

Married and widowed before he even met Dylan. Before he learned the truth about his ancestor. By that time the wound sealed, the health returned and the hollowness that was like a gap within him was patched up with life and duties. Still, there were nights when he would wake up to an empty space beside him, his arm seeking the warmth only her skin would give—and those were the times when he could admit that there was something more between him and Justine than cold calculation.

The very thought that a Nietzschean could endanger his mate, a possible mother to his child, made him growl. If Tyr Anasazi was not dead, he would kill him barehanded.

This was the point where he acted illogically: the child was Tyr's and by definition it was redundant. It should be. It carried genes of a traitor, a coward, a man who used to be a Nietzschean but died dishonored. Such genes should not be passed on. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts that Rhade was afraid of as they were the sign of the Nietzschean logic within himself, logic that could not be uprooted by the Academy. It was the survival instinct, the urge to pass on the genes. It was the calculation.

The thing Rebecca disagreed with. The thing she detested.

Was there anything else than calculation?

The Double Helix. He left his on his wife's grave. And never felt the need to have another, to try again—until now.

He started the sequence of the exercises again, this time faster and faster; marking punches and kicks, perfecting blocks and parades. He needed to get tired and stop thinking.

* * *

"I hate being left out," Harper was fighting with an awkward looking contraption and loosing the battle. Rommie stood and watched, not without amusement. The irritation prevented the engineer from solving his problems, but she was not eager to help. Let him deal with this his own way.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"You know what I mean!" if looks could kill, Rommie would drop dead. If she was truly alive in the first place. She liked to think that she was. "The Boss is screwing a second Nietzschean. In a month's time!"

"And you're angry because…" Rommie paused and smirked, "you wanted to screw the said Nietzschean yourself?"

Harper's jaw dropped. "Did I programmed you with cynism? Think not."

Rommie made an innocent face. Being the avatar of the ship, she knew everything what was happening on board and she was fully aware that Rhade was presently sweating out his frustrations in the gym. It was a pleasant sight, a sort of a mild arousal material. Even AI has her needs and when the Captain is asleep…

"It's stupidity," Harper continued. "She keeps on repeating the same mistakes. Over and over again. Trust me, nothing good will come out of this!"

Rommie cleared her throat. "You're nagging, Harper."

"So? Is there something I don't know?"

Rommie recalled the current medical status of Beka Valentine and kept it to herself. She had a small talk with Trance and she agreed the matter was not that much important to make it public. Not yet, that is.

"Not that I'm aware of," she said.

"Aha!" Harper jumped up. "I saw it! You looked left! You're lying!"

"I don't lie," she stated firmly.

"So what do you do? Cloud the truth?" Harper was evidently turned on. "There is something going on. I saw them together. Believe me, that was not a friendly chit-chat they were having! You must have seen something!"

Rommie shrugged her shoulders. "Easy, Harper. I sense your blood pressure is too high. Get some sleep."

And she walked away, leaving Harper to his conspiracy theories. Funny that he was barking up the wrong tree.

* * *

Author's ramblings: definatelly TBC. As for Rhade's wife and child (children?) - I'm not very fond of what happened in Season 5, I think that some episodes of Season 4 showed different premonition of the future but it got lost by the writers (why else are there so many Beka/Rhade fictions?;)) but the idea of Rhade having once a wife was tempting. I don't remember if her name was ever stated, so let her be Justine. Oh, and Dylan is not going to be a Paradine, semi-god or anything. No way.

Af, other pairings may appear;) Not in the next chapter, but inthe future... (a perfect future, wink at Trance)

Read, review and enjoy!


	5. Prelude to a Breakdown

**Chapter 4: Prelude To A Breakdown**

_The best way to predict the future is to invent it. _

_Alan Kay_

_Everything in the wrong place  
Kissing the wrong face  
Wrong future; No cure  
Trapped; Kidnapped  
Please you  
Not the other  
Pursue another_

_Graham Leese_

Trance was humming a cheerful tune when Dylan walked in. He noticed the plant: she was about to put it into a bigger pot. Her golden fingers were slightly covered in dirt.

"Glad to see someone on this ship is in a good mood," he said, sitting next to her.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one," she replied with that soft smile of hers and returned to work. She found it very interesting how Dylan—otherwise very intelligent man—sometimes just didn't notice the most obvious things. He just subconsciously chose not to notice them: that was the case with Gaheris Rhade, who dropped clues about his incoming treason. That was the case with Beka, naïve enough to believe her pregnancy will just go about unnoticed.

And Dylan did not notice, even though everyone else seemed to do so. Well, except for Harper, but that was no surprise.

"Everyone has been acting strange lately," Dylan sighted. Trance eyed him carefully. Perhaps?

"Define 'strange'," she asked. "And help he with the pot."

He held the pot when she was pulling the plant out of it and explained: "Beka, for example. All moody. I though it's because of what Tyr did. But I'm not so sure anymore. And Rommie. Very enigmatic. I think I caught her daydreaming. Do androids do that?"

Trance shrugged, putting the plant into the carefully chosen new pot. "I don't know, Dylan."

"And Rhade. I should get used to sulky Nietzscheans, but what he's been lately is just above average."

"Wouldn't you be sulky if you were reduced from an Admiral to a Lieutenant Commander… To a criminal on the run?" she covered the roots with dirt. "Pass me the water, please."

"Well, yes. I guess. But…"

"You're expecting treachery. Again. From a Nietzschean."

"It has been, wouldn't you agree, some sort of a universal rule. At least in my case."

Trance smiled, watering the plant. "You know what, Dylan? Sometimes things have to get worse, really, really worse, before they get better."

"Always an enigma, aren't you?"

The light shone in her eyes when she took a deep breath. "I really like this version of the future, Dylan. Better than the last one. Trust me on this."

"Do I have a choice?"

She just smiled again, picked up the potted plant and put it on its rightful place.

* * *

Beka cleared her throat. "Hey." 

Rhade heard her walking a long time before she entered the Obs. Deck. Unbeknownst to her, he was praying (even though'the God was dead' as Nietzsche put it) she would not come. But she did and with an apparent intention to talk. He put down the book he was reading, the borrowed horror story. They used the book borrowing as the reason for the Maru talk and Harper didn't buy it. He was shooting Rhade those 'I-know-what-you-are-up-to-and-I'm-watching-you' glances whenever possible. Not to mention verbal abuse and Nietzschean jokes that weresomehow marginally funny.

"Hey," he replied. She smiled on seeing the book.

"How's it going?" she asked. "Frankly, I thought you won't even open it."

The book had her scent all over it and it was sheer stupidity to read it. Still, he couldn't help himself. The plot was awfully dumb. And predictable. One predictable thing in this crazy universe.

"It's… Different from my usual choices," he found the right phrase.

"Ah," she bit her lip. "Listen, Rhade. I have to ask you something, and…" she gesticulated in hope he'll understand, pointing at the walls.

"She knows," Rhade sighted.

"What! You told her? Who else knows? Harper!"

He smiled. She was quite adorable when panicked.

"She has her sensors. And she _is_ a woman. Don't you think you're overreacting?"

He expected a series of insults, but she suddenly went quiet. That was… unusual.

"Ok," finally she sat in front of him. "So I have this question. About your Nietzschean calculation."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I need to know," she continued, "if it's really always so cold. Your relationships, I mean. The marriages, whatever. You pick a partner with a desirable set of genes… You treat relationships like a well played chess game… Is there a place for… love?"

He looked at her face, puzzled.

"I'm just asking, because…" she took a very deep breath. "I would like to think that… Hell, hearing that some emotions are involved would really make me feel better, understood?"

He was still silent.

"You can just say 'yes'," she added.

"Define 'love'," he answered, finally.

She shrugged. "Why, it's simple. It's when you…" she growled. "Damn you, Rhade! Can't you just say what I want to hear?"

"Do Nietzscheans love? Is that what you're asking?"

"Sort of. Yes."

"I'm not sure, Rebecca."

"How can you not be sure!" she stood up and looked at him from above.

"Are you?" he asked her back. She paused and sat down, again.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever been 'in love', as you call it?"

"Yes," she spat out and then hesitated. "I think so." She paused once again. "At least once."

"I believe you're mixing the definitions. 'Love' is purely accidental and plays quite insignificant part in the mating process. A much bigger part is played by passion or desire. But those are not 'love', I presume?"

"So, you're saying that a Nietzschean does not love?"

_And you are asking if Tyr Anasazi loved you. At least for a moment._

"I am not in the position to speak for all Nietzscheans, Rebecca."

"Than speak for yourself, damn it!"

_Double Helix. Left on Justine's grave. The empty space where the sleeping arm wanders, in the search of the warm curve of her hip. But it's not there. It never will be._

He was silent for too long. Beka stood up, not angry—rather disappointed.

"Don't bother, I got the answer," with that, she left.

* * *

His name was Angus and he was a human, a heavy worlder. Most of his employers thought him to be rather dumb, capable of doing only very simple tasks. Like killing someone. Or something like that. 

He was good at killing. Always was. That was his trade mark. Perhaps that's why he got so surprised when he heard what was asked from him. He looked carefully at the Perseid standing by the wall—a rather old and shabby looking Perseid, whose hands were shaking almost constantly. His boss called him 'doctor', so Angus guessed the grey man was of some importance.

"You know what you're supposed to do?" the boss asked again. Angus nodded.

"Everything will be arranged soon. It is being arranged as we speak," the boss continued. "Make sure you understand what is your role. Do not fuck things up. Do not."

Angus nodded once again and than he realized where he had seen that empty look in the Perseid's eyes. The grey doctor wanted his Flash doze. A Perseidian junkie!

That was something new.

* * *

Author's ramblings: Great thanks to all Reviewers! I'm happy You like the story so far; I hope it won't disappoint You.

**prin69**, I came up with the exercise routine myself. Pity it wasn't done in the series, I'd love to see Rhade go over the exercises... Shirtless.

Another chapter is in the making;) so it should be ready soon. And finally, _something_ will happen.


	6. Sticks and Stones

**Chapter 5: Sticks and Stones**

_In the part of this universe that we know there is great injustice, and often the good suffer, and often the wicked prosper, and one hardly knows which of those is the more annoying. _

_Bertrand Russell  
British author, mathematician, & philosopher (1872 - 1970) _

The thing Beka resented most—apart from the Nietzschean calculation—was stagnation. Sitting in one place, with nothing to do. True, she enjoyed reading at times, but that was something to do. Wandering around the Andromeda thinking and subconsciously stroking her belly was not. So when Dylan said that they could use doing some supplies, she gladly offered to do the job. A good pretext to move Maru a bit.

From behind her, Harper gave out a long, quite painful sight.

"What is it?" she turned around as much as she could, strapped to the pilot's seat. "You've been doing that a lot since we left."

Harper sighted again. Melancholic Harper? That just didn't seem right.

"Why did you want to take me, Boss?" he asked.

"Because Trance was busy," Beka was never into praising too much. Plus, that was the truth. Trance was doing some major renovating with her plants and probably didn't want to be disturbed. Rhade, naturally, would have offered to join her—luckily his long shift has just finished and he was sound asleep in his quarters. Dylan did not object to her taking Harper, but Harper had, apparently, another opinion.

"But seriously, Harper," Beka pouted her lips. "What is bothering you?"

"Well," Harper didn't know how to start and was genuinely at a loss for words—a thing absolutely uncommon for him. "To start with. I mean, don't take it much personally, Boss. Ermm, not that I, you know, spy on you or something. And I did not hack into Rommie's systems to check. Probably, she wouldn't let me, anyway, but…"

"Harper," Beka grunted. "The point?"

"The point is, Boss, that I care for you wholeheartedly and I don't want to see you heartbroken over another Nietzschean piece of shit."

Beka chocked with laughter.

"Oh. Oh dear. Oh, Harper. You don't need to worry about that," she put a hand on her belly, cupping it gently. "Trust me, I have had enough. Really, really enough."

Harper did the trademark Harper face: wide eyes and disoriented shy smile. Then he looked at the console. "Uh, Boss…"

"What is it again?"

"We are being followed. I think."

* * *

Trance stopped, with the Tarazedian Lily in her hands. She was breathing fast, almost panting. 

_Things have to get worse, really worse. Before they get better._

So this is the trigger. The thing that will start everything.

"Trance," Andromeda's hologram appeared, "are you all right?"

Trance put down the lily and shook her head.

"Yes, I'm fine," she paused for a brief moment. "Andromeda, has Beka made contact?"

"No."

"I need to speak to Dylan. Where is he?"

"Captain Hunt is in his quarters."

"Thank you," Trance started to run. They didn't have much time. She knew that one thing for certain.

* * *

Eureka Maru was floating lifeless, an angular shape on the starry backdrop. 

"No response, Captain," Andromeda appeared on the screen before Dylan. Her digital face was emotionless, but Rommie's was not. The fear in her dark eyes was evident.

"No life signs detected," she said with disbelief. Then she looked at Dylan.

"Bucky cables," he commended. "Pull her to the hangar. Rhade, Trance, with me."

He left the bridge, checking if the force lance was at his side.

* * *

The Maru was quiet, it's shabby looking corridors empty. Dylan stopped at the burned mark, a black spot on the metal wall. Trance looked over his shoulder and went on, obviously searching for something different. Rhade knelt and lifted something from the deck. 

The leather strap necklace. Her smell still clang to it.

"Beka's," he stated, trying to stay calm. He could feel the rage growing within and was able to suppress it—but only for a short while.

Dylan nodded, showing the marks on the walls. "She didn't go without a fight."

_Of course she did not._

"Dylan! Rhade!" they heard Trance shouting and rushed in her direction. She was standing by the bar, pointing at one of the wall panels. An indented wall panel. "Open it. Remove the panel. Hurry!"

Fear in Trance's voice was never a good sign. Without asking redundant questions, Dylan grabbed one side of the panel, Rhade the other. There must have been some sort of a mechanism installed once, but it broke when something heavy hit the wall. The panel got stuck.

"Beka's stash," Trance was explaining nervously. "Someone's in there… But I couldn't open it the normal way…"

"What…is…the normal…way?" Dylan's face got red from the effort. Suddenly something in the wall clicked—at least Rhade was sure he heard a small noise—and the panel fell off. Both Dylan and Rhade fell with it.

Trance gasped and jumped forward, reaching into the stash. Rhade kicked the panel away, muttering a curse, and saw Harper, unconscious and limp, literally clumped in a small space.

Trance was trying to get him out, whispering his name. She was not really doing any progress, couldn't drag Harper out of the stash. Rhade shoved her aside, quite gently for his current state, and grabbed Harper by the waist. Covering the engineer's head (pesky little engineer's head—as he kept muttering under his breath) he pulled the body out. Then he laid Harper on the deck.

He was not breathing. Felt dead in Rhade's hands.

Trance knelt beside Harper's body and hit him in the chest. Hard. Rhade was not aware that the golden girl can have so much strength in her. The tears were running down her cheeks as she kept pounding Harper's chest, stopping only to breath air into his lungs.

Rhade looked at Dylan, leaning on the wall, his face suddenly much older than usual. Worn out, tired and grey.

"Come on, Harper!" Trance began to shout. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare die here, Harper!"

Seconds felt like hours. Trance's tears formed into tiny crystal beads, that hung in the air—as she was about to punch Harper's chest—and fell down on his face when her fist reached his sternum. Rhade was waiting for the sound of crashing ribs. But he heard another: a heartbeat.

Harper's body curved, the sudden movement startling Trance a bit—but only a bit. He gasped for air with that appalling sound of a hangman, then coughed hard. For a moment his eyes were wandering around the ceiling, the sight still hazy, but he focused on Trance's beaming face.

"Wha-," he began, but another attack of cough stopped him. Dylan knelt beside, helped him sit straight. Rhade remained where he was. It was pointless to make a bigger crowd around the little man; he was clumped in a small container for too long anyway.

"Trance…" Harper was looking into the golden girl's eyes, absolutely mesmerized. "Have I ever told you… That I love you?"

"Only a dozen times, Harper," she cupped his cheek in her hand. "Glad to have you back."

For a moment Harper was disoriented, Trance's smile being the only thing he held on to. Then came the memories.

"Beka!" he tried to stand and Dylan's hand kept him in place. Realizing the truth, Harper started to shake. And even though he tried to control it, he could not. "They… They took her. They came for her. And took her…"

"Who!" Rhade asked with so much anger in his voice that Dylan was shocked. It was the first time—since their fight on the Andromeda's bridge, back in the times when Rhade was an Admiral—that he saw the Nietzschean shrug off the veil of composure. For an instant, he saw Gaheris, turning into a demon of slaughter during combat. The same face, the same fury.

Harper looked at Rhade, but Dylan doubted whether he saw him. He was in a shock and nothing sensible could have been learned from him. Not now, that is.

"I don't know," he simply answered. And then he fainted, right into Trance's arms.

* * *

Author's ramblings: I know, I know. No Beka/Rhade this time. Still, you need to trust me--the romance will develop, slowly. These two do not jump on the 'love' bandwagon quickly... Oh, and if anyone finds the final scene of this chapter reminiscent of a certain scene from LOST... I was inspired, not copying. I think it's one of the best scenes in the series. The rain, the angst. You know what i'm talking about... 

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Jamieson Z: You can be nitpicking anytime. I appreciate it very much! I'm glad you liked the story so far.

prin69: Chicken dance... Heh. I think I can picture that. Yup, I definatelly can. I guess that means I need help... And yes, Dylan... I can't say I don't like him. I do. But the whole hero-mode he gets in sometimes (most of the times...). Just gets on my nerves:)

Next chapter will be up soon...


	7. In Death's other Kingdom

**Chapter 6: In Death's other Kingdom**

_Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional. _

_(Unknown)_

_Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death. _

_Harold Wilson  
(1916 - 1995) _

The pain was the first thing she felt, but one could expect that after being shot with neuro-paralizer. The body felt numb and somehow not hers, but still painful. Beka couldn't open her eyes—not that she really wanted to see what was happening. She would welcome the darkness of sleep. Or unconsciousness. Whatever.

Maru got shot at plenty of times, but this time the shots were deadly and precise. They immobilized the ship, left it floating like a useless piece of junk. Beka was furious then—not because something might happen to her, but because someone has shot at her ship, damaged it hard and literally raped it by coming aboard. She was shooting to kill and this time there was no Saint Captain Hunt to tell her otherwise.

But there were too many of them.

_Harper._ She ordered him to hide. She pushed him into the stash, a hiding place between the walls, designed to be undetected by the best scanners available. He would be safe there, and when everything will be over—

That was the moment she got hit with the neuro-paralizer and collapsed, clouded in blackness.

She woke up to the pain. Her stomach was turning with nausea—the side effect of the paralizer. Or the pregnancy.

Fear lightened her head, as the thought of the baby getting injured run through her mind. It was an instinctive reaction, something deeply hidden. She wasn't aware—not before—that she would consider the child a part of herself. No matter how and by whom it was conceived. It was hers. She struggled to move, her eyelids flickered.

She wasn't surprised to find that her wrists and ankles were strapped to some sort of a stretcher-like contraption. She was stunned to see a Perseid, grey and worn out, leaning over her. With a syringe.

"A tad more time, Goldilocks," she heard someone say, but she didn't see the speaker.

"The effect is wearing off," the Perseid noticed.

"So I see," that voice again. "Do something with it, you are the doctor, aren't you?"

Beka tried to move her arms once more, but the straps held her firmly.

_I hope Harper is fine. He has to be. And the Maru. Harper and the Maru…_

The darkness flooded her once more, numbing the pain.

xXx

"Three ships," Rommie was pointing at the screen. "Apparently old and damaged, as they are leaving behind a trail of protons. Not much, but I was able to trace their routes."

"Three routes," Dylan looked at the screen, pondering.

"Leaving us a trail…" Rhade took a step forward, to get into the Captain's peripheral vision. "On purpose?"

"My though exactly," replied Dylan. "They want us to chase phantoms."

Rhade nodded. He seemed perfectly calm right now, but Dylan knew better. After all the Nietzscheans were masters at hiding their feelings. And that outburst of anger on the Maru… It kind of frightened Dylan. Kind of.

"Trance," Dylan turned to face the golden medic. She has just returned from the Med. where Harper was still unconscious, under the influence of a sedative. She looked a bit pale, if gold can be pale.

"Dylan," she replied. "I don't think I can."

Rhade was looking from one to another, not entirely sure what was going on. True, Trance was a very mysterious… being. Her abilities were unusual to say the least. But Dylan must have known something more, something that made him ask her for help. Suddenly Rhade felt out of place, caught between them. He backed a little, catching the look of Andromeda's avatar. Rommie was not puzzled at all.

"You told me once," Dylan leaned down and whispered to Trance's ear—though Rhade's hearing did catch the words, "that you liked this future better. Prove me that it's _really_ better."

Trance bit her lip. "What if I'm wrong?"

"You're not," Dylan was firm. He had to be. Trance nodded. "Which of these three?" Dylan asked.

Trance walked to the navigation console. Her hand hung above it, in a moment of hesitation. She closed her eyes and entered the data.

"The fourth," she whispered with a faint smile.

xXx

"Remarkable. The physiology is Vedran, isn't it? Truly remarkable. I didn't think it be possible," that voice again, hovering above her head. Beka always thought that death is much more quiet. At least the pain stopped. Though she was feeling a queer sensation around the navel.

"Awfully resistant to your sedatives, doctor. Can't you give her something stronger? Her waking up in the middle of the… procedure… would be most unfortunate, now wouldn't it?"

"Ah yes. But anything stronger might harm the fetus. Would your employer like to risk that?"

"Good point, doctor. Proceed."

xXx

"The Venedo drift," Rhade stated, as Andromeda maneuvered to stay undetected by long-range sensors. "And a former High-Guard outpost."

"Three hundred years ago," Dylan muttered.

"Aquilla," added Rommie. "I docked here. Once. It has changed."

It did. Once one of the most remote High-Guard outposts was no longer within the borders of the Commonwealth. The docking bay remained virtually untouched, able to take in a cruiser similar to Andromeda herself, but the rest of the outpost differed substantially from what both Dylan and Rommie recalled. It was larger, less stylish and certainly not a very pleasant place to spend time in.

"Maru is still not operational," reminded Rommie.

Dylan's lips curved in a smile that had a streak of viciousness. Very un-Dylan-like. Trance gave him a worried look.

"Andromeda," the Captain raised his voice. "I think it's time you docked at Station Aquilla for the second time."

xXx

Angus was just about to dug his teeth into a boiled _Tangu_, when he heard the rumor. Not very uncommon for the Venedo, but still intriguing. He took a leave when the boss and the doctor dealt with their captive—he didn't mind killing and torture, but slicing an unconscious woman open was not his cup of grog. It would be much funnier if she was conscious.

No fun, always no fun. They wouldn't let him hit her, he had to use the neuro-paralizer. Spoilsports.

Ah, the turmoil. Angus caught one guy, limping towards the docking bay, and asked him—politely—what was going on. After the series of 'please-don't-kill-me' he received an answer.

A large ship, a ship like almost nothing they have seen, was docking at Venedo. A High-Guard ship.

Now, this meant trouble.

xXx

"I'm sure there are some urgent matters that need to be taken care of," Dylan looked at Rommie with one brow raised.

"I believe I'm having a relapse of my anti-proton converter palpitations," she answered, cocking her head a little. "I will need some time in the dock to have it fixed. And in the mean time, the crew can…"

"Look around," Dylan finished.

"Do some shopping," added Rommie.

"I could use some fresh air," Harper walked onto the bridge. He tried to walk straight and he mostly succeeded. "What? I'm coming with you." He pulled out a gauss gun to demonstrate. "You're not leaving me behind. Not when she's…"

"Mr. Harper…" Dylan sighed. "Do you think you're in a condition…"

"I am in a condition to shot something. With all due respect. Boss."

Rhade eyed the short engineer. Under normal circumstances he would add some politically incorrect remark about Harper's height. Or the condition of his tiny muscles. But these were not 'normal circumstances'. Circumstances would never be normal, unless they get Beka back. Unharmed.

For if she gets harmed…

"Captain," he coughed to get Dylan's attention. "For all we know, Harper is the only one who had seen the assailants."

The engineer shot Rhade a surprised glance. _You didn't expect that coming, did you, midget?_

"A couple of Lancers walking around the drift searching for something would arise suspicion," Rhade continued. "The kidnappers may panic. We got their attention by docking. Let them focus on the ship. Let them think we really were in dire need for repairs." He paused for a moment, then looked at Harper. "They didn't see you were on the Maru, did they."

Harper nodded, still quite shocked. "But I saw them, all right. Especially the big one…" and he bit his tongue, not finishing 'like you'. Rhade appreciated that, if little.

"Walking with Harper you won't look like an assault party, Captain, Sir," Rommie noticed, then felt silent under her Captain's glare.

"With Harper and Trance," added Rhade. The golden nymph looked up, not much surprised. She showed a force lance, strung to her belt.

"Someone may need medical attention," she quickly explained. "The time is running out, Dylan. We need to go."

The Captain nodded his head. "All right, Mr. Harper. But if anything gets… Unpleasant… Do try to keep out of harms way. Please."

* * *

Author's ramblings: An update, as promised. I know not much is explained. And Beka's fate is still in limbo. But I can assure you that in the next two chapters one point of the story will be resolved...

From this moment on, as You can see, I've taken some liberties with the Dromverse. There will be new places, new technologies. I don't think I'll come up with new races, though the _Tengu_ thing Angus was about to eat is a sort of a large rat-like creature. Not very nice to look at but I've heard it was tasty. It tends to inhabitate the low levels of drifts and likes filth.

**JamiesonZ**: I am obsessed with **The Conquerable Man**. The last update was fantastic!

Many thanks to all the reviewers!


	8. The Dance of Anger

**Chapter 7: The Dance of Anger**

_Anger is a signal, and one worth listening to. _

_Harriet Lerner, The Dance of Anger, 1985_

_---_

The Perseid name was Fohn and he was thinking of another Flash doze. The one awaiting him after this whole wicked thing is over. The doze and the money. He already knew what he'll do with all the credits. Half for the Flash, the other half…

No. After all, he was trying to quit. Let's say one third for the Flash, the other two thirds for the cruise. A personal reward.

It's been a while since he last operated on a human. They had weird physiology. The holo projectors did help, layering the body map onto the unconscious woman. The holo heart was beating strongly. Fohn took the laser scalpel from his 'tool box' and set the desirable cut depth.

He saw his employer's face twitch.

"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, placing the tip of the device on the woman's stomach, below the navel. "There won't be any blood."

xXx

Harper stopped suddenly, dragging Trance with him as he was holding her arm to steady himself. Dylan and Rhade turned simultaneously, now facing Harper.

"There," the engineer did not gesticulate, just pointed with the movement of his chin. "The big one."

The big one, as Harper described, was pushing through the curious crowd, not paying much attention to his surroundings. Armed—the two belts with ammunition did not go unnoticed—and definitely dangerous. But too confident. _Like most Nietzscheans_, Rhade thought. _Only this one is a human. _

"We follow," ordered Dylan. "How many there were on the Maru, again?"

"I counted five," Harper said with a slight hesitation in his voice. "But there might have been more."

_More._ _It didn't matter, really. They were already dead._

xXx

Fohn finished in no time. He was really proud of himself. All he had to do now was patch the human up. He didn't ask questions and he didn't care much about his work. This patient of his was not supposed to die. At least not at the very moment.

His employer took the container. The artificial womb.

People would buy anything these days.

What a universe.

xXx

Angus closed the door behind him and looked at the men he worked with. He preferred to work alone, but they did come in handy when that blonde bitch started shooting. Not his kind of woman, definitely. He liked his women submissive, preferably scared. And dead, but afterwards.

There were seven men, gathered in the large room that used to be some sort of a magazine. There were still spots on the walls where lines that held crates used to be secured. Further, behind another set of doors, the doctor and the boss were playing with the blonde bitch. Not to be disturbed.

"Brought us something, Angie?"

Angus thought of a few answers, but eventually settled for nothing. He grunted and paced slowly towards the other door. The one that was not supposed to be opened. The operation room, as the boss called it.

"A High-Guard junk just docked," he felt like explaining something to the band of morons he had to work with. "Messed up pretty bad."

"Must be, if it docked here!" noticed one man, Coll.

And then there was a ring at the door. Angus stopped.

"You ordered out?" asked the short, muscled one. Peter.

Coll was at the door, checking the visor. He turned around, beaming.

"Angie ordered out a girl!" he exclaimed.

"A girl? How does she look like?"

"Pretty little thing…A bit yellowish. Says she's lost."

"Lost? Riiiiiiiiight. Let her in, I'll find her."

"Maybe she's from that High-Guard ship?"

"I'll show her high guard. And my force lance. Know what I mean?"

Laughter. Angus sighed. Amateurs. What a bunch of libido driven amateurs…

Coll opened the door. "Come on in, swee-"

Angus did not need to look. He knew what the thud sound meant. _Amateurs._

xXx

Rhade swirled around, his fist hitting the attacker on the chin, sending him flying to the wall. There was no visible sign of Beka, but he felt her smell—albeit faint—coming from behind the door. The door blocked by Harper's 'big guy'.

Harper and Trance hid behind a pillar, shooting at the assailants whenever possible. Rhade did not expect Trance to be so… fierce. Maybe that was not the best word to describe her now, but the only one that came to his mind. He always considered her a sort of a pacifist. The 'talk first, shoot later' type. Or rather 'just talk, never shoot' type. He had to revise the statement.

Dylan preferred hand-to-hand combat, it seemed. In the little pandemonium that broke lose, it was difficult to get a mark on someone, left alone shoot accurately. At one moment Rhade and Dylan froze back to back. There were three men left standing, including the big one at the door.

The big one, who finally decided to join in the party.

xXx

Angus never really liked Nietzscheans and now he had one of those dickheads beating up his men. Right, technically they were not his men. Still the prospect of killing a Nietz… Tempting. Very tempting.

It's not hard to shot a Nietz. Really, no challenge at all. Angus put away the gauss rifle and smiled.

xXx

"Dylan!"

Captain Hunt understood and ducked. The fist swung above his head, brushing the hair with a gust of wind. Dylan rolled on the ground, knocking down another attacker in the process. He kicked him in the chest, just to be sure he won't get up and turned to see how Rhade was doing.

Well. Not bad. Not bad at all.

His Nietzschean—Dylan kind of liked to think along that term—had the big guy's head locked against his own chest, evidently chocking him.

That was fast.

Reminded him of the times with Gaheris, where he didn't need to look out for his back. Gaheris was deadly when provoked. And he never hesitated—well, not until that fatal day. Dylan hoped that his friend had hesitated once. Before turning on him.

Even in the ever-present noise, Dylan heard the big guy's neck snap. A terrible, nauseating sound.

And suddenly there was no one to fight with, only the door.

* * *

Author's ramblings: Finally, some action. And we are getting closer to poor Beka. Just one door left now... And one chapter. (I'm leaving for the wekend, so the update will happen after Sunday. Sorry, no net in the woods.)

Thanks to the reviewers, You make me want to write more. (I have the whole story scripted out up to the final sentence, don't worry!)

Side note: I had a Trance/Gaheris dream tonight. Weird. Really, really weird...


	9. Choices

**Chapter 8: Choices**

_It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny. _

_Jean Nidetch_

_- - - _

Fohn had the card with the credits in his hands when the door opened. The words: 'do not disturb' froze in his throat. Without much thinking, he ducked under the operating table and started to crawl towards the back exit.

His employer stopped, his free hand almost touching the door's panel. Behind the steel plate there were ancient service tunnels, a maze known only to a handful. His other hand held the artificial womb, carefully. And now he lifted it up, like a shield.

"Do not come any closer!" he bellowed. "It's extremely fragile!"

Fohn crawled the whole way, up to his feet. Just to keep out of sight. Out of range. The cruise was awaiting him and—of, Divine--did he want his Flash doze.

The door hissed and opened, not from the inside, but outside. Fohn did not hesitate, he jumped out, got to his feet and run as fast as he could, away from this crazy mess.

xXx

Rhade entered the room and the world turned red.

The anger, the fight, the killing—and the sight of Beka, unconscious, strapped to the operating table, half covered with a white sheet—clouded his mind with a crimson mist. There was not a death painful enough in the universe for what has been done to Beka. Not in this universe and not in any other.

Trance was by Beka's side and so was Harper. If Dylan was saying something, Rhade was not listening, focused only on the tall figure, a man dressed in grey, his face covered with shawl, eyes hidden behind binoculars. He was holding…

_Stop._

He was holding…

_No. Can't be._

An artificial womb. The child.

"It's extremely fragile!"

He could hear the satisfaction in the man's voice, the power. He held all the aces, got what he wanted… And was about to leave with it. And they were watching.

The small door behind the man opened, even though he didn't touch the panel. A midget-like grey shape squeezed outside and disappeared, but that was now of secondary importance. Rhade caught a glimpse of light, reflecting from steel—barrel of a gun! his mind screamed—on the dark corridor behind the door.

The instinct did the rest.

He pushed Dylan to the ground—saw the man walk out the door with the artificial womb in hand—and then a metal object hit the floor with a slight tinkling sound.

It was not a gun barrel. It was a grenade.

From that moment on, everything froze.

Rhade heard Harper repeating: "Holyfuckingshit" as if it was one word. He saw Trance covering Beka with her own body and then he was there, by Beka, shielding them both.

The blast almost shattered his ear drums.

The wave threw him onto Trance and Beka. He felt something hard, hitting his back. And tiny, sharp shreds, cutting through flesh. But it was over and he was stillbreathing.

The grenade was there not to kill. It was to delay pursuit.

"A fucking shock wave!" Harper was coughing on the floor, his face marked by scratches.

Dylan landed by the wall and was just getting up, holding his head. Trance lifted hers and checked on Beka, still unconscious. Rhade staggered back, catching his balance in time. His and Trance's gaze met over Beka. The nymph bit her lip, said nothing. They both knew what was in the container.

Rhade turned around and run through the door.

xXx

The corridors might have been a maze, but he had the Nietzschean sense of smell. They did not hurry much, hoping the shock wave knocked everyone out. _Too confident._

The corridor ended in a large well, a ventilation shaft. Rhade halted only for a moment, scanning the area. A fragile looking platform was leading to the other side. The man he was chasing was in the middle of the platform, followed by two others, dressed in strange dark armors.

They stopped too, the man looked back.

Rhade run towards them, on the thin platform hanging above a seemingly bottomless shaft. The first man picked up the rifle—Rhade jumped up, extending the force lance into a staff, the shot went past him and ricocheted on the wall. Landing, he punched the unlucky henchman with the end of the lance and threw him off balance—and off the platform.

Another swift movement – and he knocked the gun out of the second man's hands. Then his bone blades dug into the man's throat.

Over the fallen corpse, he faced the one he was chasing.

"Very nice," the man's voice was harsh, as if glass was breaking at the bottom of his larynx. "Very nice, Nietzschean."

Rhade turned the force lance around in his hand.

"I'd recommend handing the container back," he said, holding back the rage.

"I'm sure you would," the man replied. Rhade heard steps, coming closer. From behind the man's back.

"If you give it back without incident, I'll kill you fast," offered Rhade with a smirk.

"I believe you, Nietzschean. I truly do. You are quite incredible. Hell, more than incredible," with that, the man jumped back. The part of the platform where he was standing, collapsed and fell down the shaft, into the darkness. The edges were melted by acid.

There was now a gap between them. One jump for a Nietzschean and they both knew it. The steps were getting closer.

"I'm sure you could just get here to me," the man continued. "We'd struggle for a while—I'm not a weakling myself, but you'd probably overpower me. Even after being hit by a shock wave. Still, there remains one problem."

"Which is?"

"I had my men booby-trap the drift.We have approximately…" the man looked at a timer on his wrist, "Five minutes before this place blows into pieces. Now, can you get to me, take the child, kill me and return to her? Yes, I'm talking about the woman there. Pretty remarkable creature. But this child isn't yours, is it, Nietzschean? No, it's not… Anyway, you have a choice, Nietzschean. She or the child. I don't think you have time to get both. You know I'm not lying. With that supreme hearing of yours… Even deafened after the shock wave… You know I'm not lying. So, what's it going to be, Nietzschean? Make a choice."

Rhade growled.

"Make a choice, Nietzschean!..."

"I will find you," Rhade managed to smile. "You know I'm not lying either."

The man laughed. "I'm actually counting on it! I like you, Nietzschean."

And as Rhade turned to get to Beka and the others in time, the man watched him go.

"I'm counting on it, Telemachus Rhade."

* * *

This is the end of the first story arch...

The next one will follow shortly. There is, naturally, a number of questions unanswered. And our heroes are not in a pretty situation. Still, it can get worse. Not in the moment, but it can. God, the action scenes. I loce doing them in my native language, in English I'm sometimes at a loss for a perfect phrase... I hope they don't seem too awkward.

**Jamieson Z:** I usually go for the unusual; and things do not turn the right way in the things I write. I like things dark and preferably bloody;) Happy endings are never easy to reach and in most cases the price to pay is way too expensive... (That is a premise for the future of the fic... I am wicked, amI not?)

Great thanks to all my reviewers! You Guys are great!


	10. The Aftermath

**Chapter 9: The Aftermath**

_Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver. _

_Sophocles, Antigone_

- - -

Trance was looking at the people they passed by and felt pain, overwhelming her. They looked back, unaware. Not knowing they were doomed. How does it feel, to run through a crowd of people—still walking, but already dead? It hurts. Deep down inside, it hurts so much it's inexplicable.

Dylan was helping Harper. Poor Harper, still weakened after the first close brush with death, now he had to run for his life. Trance knew that Dylan's thoughts orbited around the same thing: the fate of the Venedo Drift inhabitants. The Captain whose sole purpose in life was helping others, was now forced to leave hundreds behind.

He had no choice.

None of them had.

Rhade, carrying Beka's limp body, covered in sheets. What a hilarious group they must have been for the onlookers. With cuts and bruises, running through the corridors towards the dock. Towards the Andromeda, who was waiting eagerly, ready to boost the reverse thrusters and escape.

No other choice.

"_You said it was the better future," _a voice within Trance teased.

"_Because it is better," _she hushed it.

"_Those people would have lived. You know they would. In that worse future of yours. Is that fair?"_

"_But others would have died."_

"_Others. Your friends."_

Trance felt tears, running down her face. She hoped nobody else noticed. She didn't have a heart. Not a beating one, that is. Her heart was a star and it was now bleeding with regret.

_I've made my choice. It is the right one._

The teasing voice did not reply. For now.

xXx

The moment they came aboard, Andromeda pulled back. Slowly, at first, soon gaining speed. She took parts of the docking bay with her, causing major panic on the Drift.

There were five simultaneous explosions. The Drift trembled, falling apart. Balls of fire rose in deadly silence, then disappeared in an instant as the oxygen was sucked out into the vacuum. Andromeda got hit by the wave. She shook and wobbled, causing everyone aboard to lose balance.

"Minor surface damage and minor short circuits," the holo Andromeda appeared before Dylan, who was trying to stand up. "No substantial damage inflicted."

The coldness in Dylan's eyes caused the AI to pause.

"Captain?" she asked with care.

"Any other ships leaving the drift before the explosion?" Dylan steadied himself against the wall.

"The blast electrocuted some of my sensors. I cannot access the data at the moment," the holo replied. "I'm sure that when Harper…"

There was a moaning sound from the half-conscious engineer, sitting left of Dylan. "Be right there, Romdoll. Just…" And silence. Harper passed out. Again.

"Take us to a safe position," Dylan gave out a long breath and twitched with pain as one of his ribs resonated with ache. "And scan for any survivors… Just in case."

_There won't be any._ He already knew.

xXx

"Wait," Trance's voice stopped Rhade as he was about to leave the Med. bay. "I have to take care of your injuries."

Rhade turned to look at the Med. Beka was on the main bed, the monitor above her showing her life was not in danger. Harper dozed off on a side bed, with knees pulled close to his chest.

"Tend to them," Rhade said. "I'm not injured."

Trance put her hands on the hips, pouting her lips. "No? Who's the medic here?"

"I'm not injured," he repeated.

"Sure," Trance pointed at the scanner to Rhade's right, "Just like Dylan. He's barely walking but he went straight to the bridge and I couldn't stop him. I know the Nietzschean. But denying an injury is not a survival trait."

Rhade raised an eyebrow. "Getting into Nietzschean rhetoric?"

"If I have to," backed Trance. "You have minor skull fractions, some internal bleeding and two of your ribs are broken. You still think you can handle that on your own?"

"It's been worse," he replied, knowing already that the golden nymph will not let him out of the Med. bay.

"Do I need to shout at you? Because I will if I have to," Trance looked deadly serious. The feisty behavior did not suit her so much, that Rhade couldn't help it and smiled. Just a little bit.

"You do have the gift of persuasion," he noticed.

Trance nodded. "Now, take of the jacket and sit over there. It won't take much time and afterwards you can… Proceed with whatever you want to do."

As Trance was injecting him with special nanobots, Rhade looked at Beka's calm features. Her chest was moving in the slow rhythm of her breath. It seemed as if she was just sleeping, so peaceful. Serene.

"How is she?" he asked. Trance sighed.

"From what I have seen so far…" she hesitated. "The physician that conducted the operation was very skillful. There may be a scar left, though."

The atmosphere was getting dense. Almost too heavy to breathe.

"Physically, she will recover quickly," Trance continued. Maybe she was not aware of the dark spots that started to flow before Rhade's eyes. Not red anymore. Dark. "But when she wakes up… I don't know." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "She may need someone. To talk to."

_She has you, Trance. And she has Dylan. _

"Tend to them," he stood up, shaking her hand of him, albeit gently. "Thank you for… Thank you. I'll try to send Dylan your way."

She smiled, softly like she used to. Rhade looked once more upon Beka's laying figure and left the Med. bay, trying not to limp as the adrenaline wore off.

xXx

She opened her eyes and for the first time she saw something familiar.

Well, generally familiar.

Harper's face was swollen on one side, making him look like a fluffy child's toy.

"What happened to you, Harper…?"

She wasn't expecting the reaction that followed. Harper cried out and flung himself at her, wrapping her in his arms and cuddling.

"Boss! Oh, Boss, you're alive! You're fine! Boooooooooooss…!"

Beka could not do anything else but cuddle him back.

xXx

The realization came afterwards. It filled Beka's insides with cold and sharp steel. It tightened the metal ring around her head and another one, around the heart. It made her curl up on the bed—when Harper left, when Trance left, after Dylan's visit—and cry. Cry without tears, the sort of silent scream, muttered by the pillow, so that nobody would hear her. The hysterical cry. The one in which only her body trembled.

She pressed her fingers to the scar that almost wasn't there—oh, how perfect the medicine has become!—and wailed.

It wasn't even hers. Not to the fullest. She didn't tame the thought of having it. Of carrying it.

But she thought it was going to be a girl.

It wasn't hers the way it should have been. The way any child should be. The way she wasn't to her mother.

And it has been taken.

Taken!

The tears started rolling down her cheek, unwanted, just like the child. She chocked on them, finally letting out a high pitched shriek—and there was grief, there was anger, there was a question to the universe.

_WHY?_

The universe remained silent.

Andromeda watched.

A single tear appeared in the corner of Rommie's eye. She brushed it off quickly, but not quick enough for her Captain to notice.

xXx

"You knew," Dylan rested his chin on the hands. Trance just nodded. They were in his office, the private mode engaged. She finally managed to check on the Captain's health condition but he had used the opportunity to question her. "You knew from the start. And you didn't bother to tell me."

Trance nodded again. "She wanted to keep it a secret for a little while."

The question—unspoken—hung between them.

_Is this your better future?_

And yet, another one.

_Did you knew this was going to happen?_

And a 'yes' to both of them.

- - -

* * *

Author's ramblings: I know, no very thrilling or important things happen in this chapter--still the plot moves forward, Beka woke up, Trance is being enigmatic, Dylan is... Oh, nevermind (I may refrain from Dylan bashing, but I have another fic in mind where I won't...;))

I've read 'Coda' by Robert Hewitt Wolfe and... It's really interesting. The 'original origin' of Andromeda, who Trance really was suppose to be... All I can say is WOW. I'd love to READ the whole thing as an epic book. But I'm not sure if it would work out well in TV series... Still, if there exists a person who had not read the Coda, please do: http/ next? Well, do you really think Beka Valentine can be kept in Med? I don't think so...

As always, **thanks for the reviews!**


	11. Hollow

**Chapter 10: The Hollow**

_Who then devised the torment? Love._

_T.S. Eliot_

- - -

"I thought I'd find you here."

Rhade jumped a little, surprised at hearing Trance's voice behind his back. He was deliberately using the panels in a machine shop that Harper was not present in at the moment. He wanted to work alone, without the irritating engineer around. Without anyone around, for that matter.

"You've sneaked up… On _me_?"

Trance just shrugged her shoulders and walked closer, to take a look at the screen he was examining the past twenty minutes.

"You are a woman of amazing abilities, Trance Gemini," he admitted, finally.

She smiled warmly. "Amazing abilities seem to be a common factor for the crew of this warship. Are you…?"

"I'm trying to track down our mysterious kidnapper, if that's what you're asking," he replied. "But the explosion on the Drift created some sort of a magnetic pulse… At least that's what Harper told me earlier today. It scrambled the readings. The last four minutes of recordings before the explosion are practically unreadable."

Trance cocked her head a little. "But you have managed to gather something…" She pointed at the screen. "A small ship. Leaving the Drift way before Andromeda. Signature of the pilot is…"

"Perseid. It was a Perseid," Rhade interrupted. "Left in a hurry and jumped into slipstream."

Trance looked up. "Beka mentioned she saw a Perseid. I believe he was the one who conducted the operation."

Rhade's eyes narrowed. "He sneaked out the door." He remembered. _The grey midget. _Back then it seemed like nothing important. Back then he was focused on the artificial womb and it's little passenger. But now…

"She also mentioned he was on Flash," added Trance. Rhade smiled.

"Good," he said. Trance raised an eyebrow.

"In what sense?"

"How many Perseids you know take Flash? It will be much easier to find him."

"It's a big universe," she reminded.

"Not as big as it seems," he sighed. "That Perseid was, probably, paid for doing…" Trance noticed that Rhade's hand clenched into a fist, "…what he did. And now he will try to spend this money. If he is a Flash addict…"

"He will search for a dealer," Trance agreed.

"And we will search for this dealer, too."

---

Dylan still felt a bit dizzy when he was standing for too long and that's what he has been doing on the command. He had hit the wall pretty hard back then, on the Drift and—unlike Rhade—he didn't have the Nietzschean physiology. Plus, he had waited with tending to the injuries and they got worse.

He held the console's rim to steady himself and ignored the worried look that Trance just shot him.

"Captain," Andromeda appeared on the screen. "Beka Valentine has left the Med. bay."

"What?" Dylan frowned, then turned to Trance. "Isn't she supposed to be resting?"

"She is but…" Trance hesitated.

"But you cannot hold Beka when she doesn't want to be held," finished Harper. Rhade just raised an eyebrow.

"Andromeda, locate her," ordered Dylan. "And seal the hangar, just in case."

"Captain Valentine is in her quarters… Correction, she is heading towards the command."

Dylan gave out a long sigh.

Beka walked in, confident as ever, stern look on her face. Dressed as her usual self, in tight black pants and black turtleneck with no sleeves. She also made her hair a bit longer, reaching the shoulders and a bit wavy at the tips.

"Reporting to command," she said, looking straight at Dylan. "I am sick of doing nothing."

They eyed each other for a moment, neither backing away.

"Beka, you should be…" Dylan started.

"I've been resting, Dylan," she cut him off. "I'm not going to stay in bed any minute longer. I'm fully capable of doing my duties here. I am not disabled!"

She took a long breath.

"But if this makes you feel any better," she added, "you can dismiss me when you see I'm not handling the situation here."

Dylan smirked. "An ultimatum?"

"You can call it whatever you want."

Trance smiled. "From medical point of view…" she started, "Beka can be allowed to stay… For a limited time, naturally."

Dylan looked at the golden girl and his eyes were saying _et tu?_ Trance just smiled. Again.

"Fine, Beka. But no piloting. Take the console next to Rhade and… No piloting."

"I've heard that," she grumbled, walking past Rhade on the way to the console. She paused, turned to the Nietzschean. "By the way: I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Excuse me?" he was really puzzled. As were probably everyone else on the bridge.

"Well, since you didn't bother to visit me in the Med., I'm telling you now," she explained, sarcasm dripping from her words. "I'm fine. Glad you've been worrying."

---

Hollow.

She felt hollow inside.

The water run down Beka's body as she leaned her forehead on the shower's wall. The wet hair clung to her head, wrapped her neck. She was trying to catch her breath. A second ago that coldness has overwhelmed her again, though the shower was hot. She staggered and leaned on the wall. She didn't cry, though.

Slowly, she came to her knees. The water was still running, but contrary to what some books said, it did not wash the pain away. The pain was there, a splinter within her.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Nobody could see her like this. Not her. Not Beka Valentine.

She arched back, the water hit her face and breasts. She felt it pound on the skin, as if trying to get underneath.

_Get a grip, Valentine! Now!_

She thought she can handle herself. She was the tough Valentine. Valentine Smart. She can't just crack like this. She can't.

It hurt. It hurt even worse than she though it is possible. It didn't hurt that much when she got heartbroken, dumped, betrayed. It didn't. When her mother left. When dad died. When all the men in her life turned out to be a bunch of selfish bastards.

But it hurt now. _If only Rev was here. I sure miss his consolations, though I never really listened to any of them. I heard them but never listened._

She left the shower five minutes later, calm and composed. When she was brushing her slightly longer and still wethair, the holo Andromeda appeared.

"Checking up on me?" Beka shook her head, the wet strands splattered tiny beads of water around.

Andromeda pouted her lips in that 'quit-your-smart-ass-act' expression she could put on sometimes. Sure, she probably knew that Beka did not got to her old self quite yet. And now she came to preach. The do-gooder, Dylan style.

"I think you should take a look at this," the holo replied, pointing at the panel to the left of Beka. The screen was flicking.

"What is this?" Beka turned to face Andromeda.

"Something you should see," enigmatic like never. What? Andromeda was now turning into Trance?

"Just wait and you'll turn gold with horns," Beka muttered under her breath. The holo did not looked particularly bothered by the attitude. Andromeda disappeared, leaving Beka by the flickering screen.

"Ah, fine, whatever," Beka grunted, touching the 'play' symbol at the middle of the panel.

She felt her throat tighten. She was looking at herself, in the bed on Med., sleeping, unaware… The camera angle was from above, a bit awkward to see oneself like that. But it was not the reason her heart skipped a beat. Not the reason the coldness returned and got hold of her insides.

Next to sleeping Beka sat Telemachus Rhade.

The clip was played at faster speed, showing the events from the moment Beka was placed in the Med, up to her final waking up. The others came and went, Trance, Dylan. Harper, who spend some time on a bed next to her. But Rhade was there. Everyday. He watched her recover.

"Andromeda, sound!" ordered Beka, her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Not available," answered the AI.

"What do you mean?" Beka couldn't believe. "What do you mean 'not available'?"

"I'm sorry."

The scene froze on the screen: Rhade brushing the strand of hair off Beka's forehead.

"Andromeda, give me Commander Rhade's location!" Beka was not entirely sure of what she wanted to do, but she felt quite guilty and she didn't like the feeling. She also lifted her hand to touch a wet strand that clung to her forehead.

"Commander Rhade had left twenty minutes ago on Eureka Maru with Trance Gemini," the AI's response stopped Beka in her efforts to get dressed decently.

"What!" she exclaimed, suddenly not knowing if she was mad at herself for being a total bitch to Rhade… Or furious at him for taking her ship without asking first. At this moment, the latter prevailed.

And one would have thought the DNA security measures were enough.

Yup, she was definitely going to have a talk with Rhade as he gets back. And if Maru gets scratched…

It was now everything she had.

* * *

Author's ramblings: I'm keeping with the regular update pace, as the university starts in October. I hope I can deliver the bigger part of the story till then... From my own experience I know how hard it gets once the classes start... Jeez. I've been working on a novel for a second year now; one more chapter to go (in the novel) and I hit a writer's block;) Tough.

Anyway... Jamieson Z, it's true. Trance knew what will happen. She has a certain goal in mind, she has made certain choices... And as she told Dylan, things need to get worse in order to get better. What she didn't say is how much worse... And it's just a beginning.

Well, Beka is up on her feet and a bit unstable. Though she still values Maru higher than certain individuals... Or that's what she thinks.

Andromeda tried her best. She watches, and she is very thorough. She can recognize emotions. Plus, i'm sure she was listening to everything Rhade could say in the Med. What did he say? Well, I don't know,I wasn't listening...

As in this reality 'Lost in a Space that isn't there' never happened and never will, I felt like giving the two a bedsidemoment (a hospital bedside!). I really liked the way it was played in the episode... Though Rhade did suggest shoting Beka out of an airlock... Ever the practical;)

- -

OK, the premise... In the next chapter, we will follow Trance and Rhadeon a particualar Drift, a centre of all pleasures... And Trance will admit to some things she used to do back in the days she was purple... And had a tail.

See you then!...


	12. One Night at Fountainrouge

**Chapter 11: One Night in Fountain-rouge**

_Ask questions from your heart and you will be answered from the heart. _

_Omaha Proverb_

- - -

Rhade always thought Maru to be an interstellar junk that somehow managed to keep itself in one piece. But actually, as ugly as it looked, Maru was surprisingly swift in piloting. The slipstream ride was brief and quite easy. And got them right where they wanted.

"Interesting," Rhade admitted, examining the Drift. It was not extremely large, rather medium size, but it was definitely the most colorful one in the galaxy. Thousands of lights were flashing around the corpus, forming into commercials, inviting to dock. One swarm of lights formed into a shape of a woman, dancing half naked.

"Fountain-rouge. It's the centre of all pleasures," Added Trance from the station behind the pilot's seat. Rhade turned to look at her, his face clearly surprised. "I used to… Well. I used to spend some time here… Did I ever mentioned I worked for a Nightsider once?"

"Not really," Rhade looked partly amused.

"Well, we did visit this place once or twice. There are many casinos here… Bars. Clubs. No morals, no standards, just… Pleasure."

Rhade put Maru on autopilot and got off the seat. They were approaching the Drift very slowly and he still had a few minutes… To change. His usual uniform would stand out in the crowd, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Trance watched him go. "Maybe…" She was talking while fiddling with the hair strands to keep her fingers busy, "Maybe there are some things you should know… About my past… Before we enter the Drift."

"Before we enter the den of hedonism?" his voice was muffled by the walls between them. "Trance, are you trying to intimidate me?"

Trance shook her head, though he couldn't see that. "For starters, I used to be purple." As no answer came from Rhade, she continued. "And I had a tail."

"A tail," she heard him repeat.

"And I used to be a dancer in one of the clubs here, but they won't recognize me as I was purple back then and had a tail so there is no chance they will know that I'm me as I'm not purple now."

Trance uttered the sentence on one breath, as fast as she could. Rhade walked in, with one eyebrow up, looking at her.

"A dancer."

"Way before I met Beka, Harper and Rev," she explained. "Really, bygones."

"With a tail."

"It did help a bit. You know, with holding the pole. And…" Trance stopped, seeing his other brow raising. "And we are approaching the Drift, so I think you should get back to the pilot's seat."

Rhade seated himself and buckled the belts. A worn out black leather jacket covered his bone blades. He still had that good boy scout air to him, but not as much as he used to. Trance smiled to herself.

She kind of missed the days her skin was purple and the journey just began. Alhena, the shinning one, Trance Gemini smiled with fondness, remembering her tail. Maybe she'll regrow it later. When some issues are sorted out.

----

Trance knew her way around the Drift. Not many things has changed, apparently. She clung to Rhade's shoulder, pretending – and doing it quite well – that he was her client. Her goldness was nothing unusual in this place of colors and sounds, where almost every passing woman had a makeup more radiant than her.

There were clubs for every sexual orientation existing. There were casinos and sparring centers. A large sign advertised a match with a local champion, and the penalty for losing was death. Still, there were candidates willing to take the risk. A holo screen above the main walking street, which Trance called fondly 'the Boulevard', was showing footage of a race. Another one displayed the finale of a caged fight between two very large green aliens. Both had spikes and both bled badly.

Twice someone tried to rob them. The first time the thief just run off with nothing. The second time, Rhade broke three fingers of the pickpocketer's hand by simply grabbing him. Maybe the word has spread, as they were not bothered by theft again.

A young man, a bit stoned, approached them as they were standing on a junction, pondering where to go next. His face was covered in white makeup, only the lips were painted blue. His hair was long and orange, tied in a bun on the top of his head. He looked rather pathetic, but he though otherwise.

"How much?" he asked, pointing at Trance.

"Excuse me?" she frowned.

"She's already taken," Rhade put his hand on the man's shoulder, pushing him a step away as he was getting closer.

"Whatever he pays you, I'll double," the man did not give up so easily.

Trance giggled. "Oh, honey. You cannot double that…"

Before the man could respond, she pushed Rhade to the street on the right. They immersed in a crowd, walking away from the junction.

Here the lights were more dim, and the air was filled with exotic scents. Scantly clothed females of nearly all species were standing in large windows, as if on display.

"Harper's favorite district?" Rhade couldn't help himself.

Trance nodded. "Right. But it's 'look, don't touch'."

If she did catch the look Rhade shoot her, she didn't react.

---

For a Drift where everything was for sale, getting to a Flash dealer was incredibly difficult.

Trance picked this Drift as their first destination and Rhade trusted her judgment. She was correct many a time before, she picked the right route when they were chasing Beka's kidnappers. Naturally, she might have chosen this particular Drift because she used to work here… But to every choice Trance Gemini ever made, there was something more. And Rhade was about to find that out, as he was looking at the cards in his hand and the credits on the table.

He used to do a little gambling in the Academy years. Still, his favorite game was Go. More strategy, less dumb luck.

At least they were not seating in a loud and flamboyant casino, but in a shabby bar – and the atmosphere was almost intimate. It was roughly confirmed, that a certain Perseid was quite a regular in this local. A certain Perseid with a specific weakness.

The barman had confessed to Trance – who suddenly appeared to have a nice cleavage – that the Perseid ("Weird name… Like Gohn, Mohn… Fohn. Yes, that's it!") did visit the bar a day before. Met with a Nightsider, also a regular in here, chatted for a while, bought what he wanted and left. In a hurry. He looked a bit shaken, for that matter.

So they were waiting for the Nightsider. Trance got into the part of a bimbo pretty well. Rhade never actually considered her a sexual being. Rather an ethereal creature, absolutely sexless, yet in the shape of a quite attractive female. So she had a tail. Once. Interesting.

"I raise," the Inari on the other side of the table threw out a bunch of credits. Then he pointed at Trance, sitting at Rhade's side. The display of her assets did not go unnoticed and she was the main reason they got into the card game. The alternative was beating up the Inari. Rhade would have liked the alternative.

Trance suggested otherwise. "Let's see if your luck lets you have me."

And so they ended up with cards in their hands. Fine. They can try the luck. He can always beat the Inari up afterwards.

He wondered if it was the place that made him so ready for a bar-fight, or the past events with Beka. In the past he would have though twice before getting into a situation like this. And now…

_The Nietzscheans do not beat themselves up. As a rule._

Self-absorbed, not masochistic.

To every rule there is an exception, it seems. He was not fast enough back then. He didn't manage to get the child back. Failure did not become a Nietzschean. And he had failed.

Trance touched his shoulder. "You're lucky," she said with a smile. _Really? Then why bad thing happen to people around me?_

But that was her way of telling him he can check. Having Trance around, how did Harper not manage to get extremely rich in a nearby casinos? Inborn limitations, probably.

"And I check," Rhade pulled out his last credits on the table. The Inari grinned, showing very uneven set of teeth.

Slowly, the smile faded. Trance clapped her golden hands and reached for the credits. Rhade thought it highly unbelievable, but they have won. And a quite large sum of money, actually.

The Inari grabbed Trance's wrist as she touched the heap of credits. The same instant he was half lying on the table, held by Rhade by the back of his neck.

The barman and other guests of the local looked at them, a bit curious. Such situations must have been happening here on daily basis.

"OK, OK!" the Inari was not struggling too much. He waved his free hand in the air in pleading gestures. "You can take it! You won! That was a stupid habit I have! I swear!"

Rhade sighed, releasing him. The Inari backed away, turned and left the bar. Trance continued packing the credits to her bag.

"I have a feeling they'll come in handy later," she explained after zipping the bag closed. She left a few credits outside and looked longingly at the alcohol behind the bar.

"In handy… In case we have to bail ourselves out?" Rhade asked. He did notice the looks some of the bar clients gave them – and the heap of credits that just disappeared in Trance's bag. Such amount of money sure seemed tempting.

And then a Nightsider came in.

Rhade heard once somebody say that all Nightsiders look alike. It was true. They even smelled alike. Or stunk. _De gustibus non est disputandum_.

Trance spotted him as well and nodded. The Nightsider greeted the barman, ordered a drink and went to seat in a dark corner, close to the back exit.

As he was about to take a seep of his glass, Trance sat in front of him and smiled gently.

"Oh. Hi," the Nightsider tilted his head.

Then Rhade sat at his side, blocking the way out.

"Hi," the Nietzschean smiled too, but not exactly gently. "We have a couple of questions. Care to answer?"

"We are looking for a Perseid named Fohn," Trance folded her hands on the table. "We think you can help us find him."

"And why do you think that, sweetie?" the Nightsider felt uneasy –Rhade could definitely smell that – but was not ready to cooperate. Not just yet.

"Probably because you sold him Flash yesterday," he said.

The Nightsider became more uneasy. "Oh, that! Never seen him before in my life!"

"Funny," Rhade grabbed the Nightsider's hand and squeezed it. Light. "For we have heard something quite different. Maybe you'll reconsider your last statement?"

"Please?" added Trance, smiling innocently.

"What are you? Good High Guard, bad High Guard!" The Nightsider tried to stand up. Rhade pulled him down.

"Something like that," he agreed. "Now. Back to Fohn. We'd appreciate any kind of information."

"I… I don't remember," uneasiness changed into hysteria.

The Academy taught diplomacy and negotiations. Rhade practiced that on daily basis when he was the Tarazed Admiral. Still, there were situations when negotiations meant only one thing.

"Perhaps something to refresh you memory? I've heard that a little pain can do wonders in that matter…" He squeezed the Nightsider's hand a bit harder. Just a bit. The bones did not need to be broken. Yet.

"My friend has been through a lot, lately," Trance explained to the Nightsider who was doing his best not to cry. "You need to understand. He can be a bit… Hasty. You mustn't get him angry…"

"Fine. Fine. I said fine!" the Nightsider panted out. "Fohn'd been here yesterday. Bought himself a doze. A couple of dozes, OK? And he left, right? You missed him!..."

"Somehow I think there is something more," noticed Trance.

"You are not telling the entire truth," agreed Rhade. "Pupils dilated, heartbeat way above the norm…"

"You're crushing my fucking hand!..."

Rhade let go of his hand. "No, you're still too agitated."

"What are you, fucking Niet…" and he stopped, as Rhade pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh bloody hell."

"Not yet," Rhade pulled the sleeve back. "But maybe your memory just got better?"

Trance simply sat there, smiling.

"Could she stop?" the Nightsider looked at Rhade, massaging the aching hand. "She gives me the creeps."

"Sorry," Rhade shrugged. "But you can finish the Fohn story and we'll go."

"I knew it," the Nightsider gulped. "He told me there were some guys chasing him. And since the Venedo just blew up… You want to kill him or what?"

"Or what," Trance cut in. "No killing."

"Fantastic. You made my day, sweetie."

"She was talking about Fohn," Rhade interrupted. "Not you, so finish the story."

"Fine. Fine. Fohn decided to run. Some place safe, right? So there's this cruise he always dreamed of and he has the money… He decided to go."

"A cruise?" Trance cocked her head, intrigued.

"A very expensive cruise, honey. A cruise on a luxury ship that goes through the Poe Nebula. I guess he thinks he can hide on the other side…"

Trance patted his aching hand. "See? That wasn't so hard. Thank you for your help."

"Yeah," the Nightsider backed away from her. "Whatever."

As Rhade and Trance got up, everyone in the bar turned away, pretending they saw nothing. How lovely convenient.

Outside the bar, Trance patted the bag she had hidden the credits in. "I told you it was going to come in handy," she whispered. "I think it's just about enough to buy some tickets for the luxury cruise…"

He shook his head in disbelief.

- - - - - -

* * *

This one was long. I couldn't stop writing at some point...

OK, I know I've taken some liberties with Trance... I was watching some Purple Trance episodes and thought she would love to do the things like that. Why giving up the color (and yes, seeing a few nasty things in the past...) would change her attitude? I think that once she's almost sure the future she came from is not going to happen, she can start behaving like her old self... But I think i prefer the Trance look from Season 5 to that from Season 4. The Season 5 Trance is more innocent and elf-like, just as I like her. So, picture the Trance in this fic as her Season 5 self... ThoughI hate Season 5 plotwise.

_The Fic Soundtrack (or the things I listen to while writting;)):_ Batman Return OST, The Island OST, 'This Left feels Right' Bon Jovi... Evanescence... Linking Park, 3 Doors Down. Live. Coldplay. Goo Goo Dolls. I'll stop now.

Thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews! More? Yes, the story is just in the middle. There will be more.


	13. The Thing with Feathers

**Chapter 12: The Thing with Feathers.**

_The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. _

_Carl Jung  
Swiss psychologist (1875 - 1961)_

_Hope is the thing with feathers  
That perches in the soul.  
And sings the tune  
Without the words,  
and never stops at all. _

_Emily Dickinson  
US poet (1830 - 1886) _

- - -

"Eureka Maru has landed," Andromeda's voice woke Beka up. For a moment she was still lingering in that soft world between sleep and reality but it lasted only a short while. She jumped out of bed, quickly dressed up, and run towards the hangar.

Her ship has returned.

She stopped at the sight of Maru and then slowly approached. Once inside, she caressed the walls with her fingertips. Back in one piece.

"It's not scratched," Trance smiled, walking towards her. "How are you feeling, Beka?"

Beka shrugged. "Not bad," she lied. "I guess I'm back." She pretended to smile and spread her arms wide, so that Trance could hug her. Not the best acting, though.

If Trance noticed –and with Trance, that was certain as hell – she did not comment. She hugged Beka warmly, then moved away on the distance of extended forearms and looked deep into her eyes. "You seem a bit disappointed… You expected someone else here."

_Oh, damn._

"Uh… I… I was wondering… Rhade. Where did he go?"

Trance tilted her head a little. "I believe he's speaking with Dylan right now… We've found something and…"

"Something," Beka closed her eyes. "Something connected with… me." It was a statement, not a question. Surprisingly, the coldness did not attack this time. Her heart did flicker, though. Softly, like a tiny bird.

"We have a lead, Beka," Trance spoke reassuringly. Beka shook her head, taking a deep breath. She was expecting that – no! – hoping for that. And now that she heard the words…

"Something solid?" she asked. "Will you tell me or do I have to wait for Dylan to announce it?"

Trance held her hand tightly. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

---

Andromeda told Rhade where to look for Beka, but even without the whereabouts he would be able to locate her. She was making a lot of noise.

He walked into the gym just in time to see her beating up the training mannequin. The poor guy did not stand a chance.

Beka was not holding back. Her style –if it could be called style – was chaotic but quite effective. She dealt powerful punches and kicks in no particular order, ducked and danced around the mannequin. Her hair let loose from a ponytail and now was flowing around her head like a halo. The sweat drops one her skin glistened.

And there was fury, there was frustration, anger. In her movements, in her cries. What was suppose to relax her, tensed her more and more.

She noticed his presence only when he coughed. Surprised, she stopped, hands rested on knees, bend in half, breathing hard. She threw the hair out of her eyes and looked up. Chewing on a sarcastic remark, no doubt.

"What?" she finally said, straightening up. "I've heard everything. Trance told me. Now, is Captain Perfect going to let me go?"

"And you're trying to strain yourself in order to prove him you're fully capable of going," Rhade gave out a slight smile.

Beka pouted her lips. "Something like that, yup."

Dylan asked Rhade to get Beka, however he didn't specify when. This meant they had some time… Rhade recognized that need in Beka; he did experience similar thing a few times before. The urge to let out the anger, to free oneself of the tension. It worked better with a real opponent. He took off the jacket. "Do you have your force lance with you?" he asked.

Beka's eyebrows arched. "Why? You want to stand in for the mannequin?"

"Something like that," he mimicked her.

She bit her lip. _Beating the crap out of a Nietzschean sounds tempting._ No, that's not it. Not it.

She took her force lance from the rack she left it and extended it into a staff. Not her weapon of choice. She preferred something substantial, like a nice gun. Light, with a nice grip and lethal. Her style.

"Ready when you are," she took the pose with the staff in both hands in front of her.

_Maybe it'll help with the frustration. _

He had the staff in one hand, it's point on the ground. _Right. Here we go_. Beka lunged herself at him, he parried with no effort at all and jumped aside, so she almost lost balance. _Footwork_. Again, she attacked, this time aiming at his head, once more he parried, then went into offensive and she had to brace herself against his strength.

She ducked, aimed for his shins, he jumped up, over her crouched figure, and landed not losing the balance. _Damn Nietzscheans_. Once again they were just moving back and forth, each either attacking or parrying. She had an impression he's just toying with her.

"Why didn't you ask?" talking while sparring was not the best idea but Beka has just reached the level she no longer cared and her anger wanted yet another way out.

"About what?"

"The Maru!" this time she got a hit. Finally. Just brushed his shoulder, but it's always something.

He turned, blocking her attack, then with a sudden jerk of hands threw the staff from her grip. _Crap._ She ducked in an instant, kicking him under the knee. They both ended on the floor.

"Would you let me take it?" he held her down. She grinned and suddenly arched forward, hitting him with her forehead. _Holy shit, that hurt._

"No!" she yelled, rolling away.

"See? You have your answer."

She turned to him, panting. The damned bastard was not even breathing faster. Surprisingly, she did feel better. The tension she felt was slowly wearing off.

"Dylan wants to talk to us. You, in particular," Rhade stood up and reached down his hand to Beka. This time she took it, almost not giving it a though.

"I think I'll take a shower first," she admitted. Then realized she's still holding his hand. She let go, a bit too hasty. "And… I'll be ready… In fifteen minutes, fine?"

_Damn, Valentine. There you go again. _

---

Dylan didn't look too well. Having ignored the concussion he suffered on Venedo Drift, his recovery was not yet full. He felt best when seated, which frustrated him very, very much. Especially when there was an opportunity for action and he was about to be left out.

The senior staff gathered in the meeting room. Dylan was observing them as the information sank in.

"The Poe Nebula!" Harper exclaimed with excitement. "It's a… It's my dream cruise! The sights, the colors! Costs a fortune…"

Rommie send him a disgusted look. Nobody else bothered.

Beka was surprisingly silent. Dylan expected her to go rampage, order everyone around… And he got something diametrically different. No, she was not resigned. Rather calmed a bit. She was waiting for his decision. Rhade did tell Dylan – when they talked for the first time – what was his opinion on this matter. _That was one strange conversation_, thought Dylan. _As if I was not talking with my weapon tactic officer, but the Tarazed Admiral._

"I've booked two tickets," Trance interrupted the train of thoughts Dylan was getting into. "The money Rhade won was just about enough…"

"Wait a minute!" Harper turned to the Nietzschean. "You're telling me _he_ can bluff?"

"Technically speaking," Rhade raised an eyebrow. "We are genetically predisposed to bluff."

"Ha. Comforting," Harper chuckled.

"Mr. Harper," Dylan sighed. "Not now." As everyone's attention focused on him, he continued. "We have two tickets. I cannot go…" he cleared his throat. This was… humiliating. "Mr. Rhade. I'm sure you'll appreciate the opportunity to see the famous Poe Nebula." Rhade nodded slightly. "Beka…" Dylan started. Beka's head jolted up and there was hope in her eyes. Dylan smiled to himself, remembering Rhade's words and then repeated them: "Only you have seen the Perseid. That makes you the only possible candidate on this mission… However--" he couldn't help himself. After all he was responsible for them all, "I wonder seriously about your health condition…"

Beka's eyes widened. "I have fully recovered!" she snapped, angrily.

"I concur," Rhade cut in. "The last sparring match with Captain Valentine proves her excellent condition."

Beka shot him a puzzled glance and quickly focused back on Dylan. Harper opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened again. Rommie chuckled. Trance looked innocent as ever.

"Settled then," Dylan shook his head. He was beginning to feel tired. "The cruise launches the day after tomorrow. Andromeda will get you to the Poe system… It's a neutral space. We will follow in close range, but not to raise suspicion. Only specific ships are allowed to enter the Nebula… And Andromeda is not one of them."

"Yet," added Rommie with a smile.

---

* * *

Shorter chapter this time, sorry. I'm glad you liked the previous one. It was supposed to be a bit lighter in mood, maybe a bit funny. Good it worked that way.

Next time? The luxury cruise, Beka, Rhade... And another obstacle on the way.

Thanks -- as always -- for all wonderful reviews! And to those of you who are waiting for a Beka/Rhade moment... A substantial moment... The next chapter. I repeat: the next chapter. Working title: Love Boat. It _will_ change (the title, hopefully...) but you get the picture...?


	14. The Love Boat

**Chapter 13: The Love Boat**

_Intimate relationships cannot substitute for a life plan. But to have any meaning or viability at all, a life plan must include intimate relationships. _

_Harriet Lerner_

---

"What was she thinking?" Beka threw her bag on the large double bed and looked around the luxury cabin. "Mr. and Mrs. Larkin!"

"Maybe she thought _she_ was coming," Rhade remarked, checking the wardrobes.

Beka frowned. "Oh. You and Trance got that close after one night on the pleasure Drift?"

"I'm taking the couch," Rhade did not bother to answer that particular question.

"Fine!" Beka sat on the bed. Quite comfy, actually. She sighed, falling back on the soft linen. The ceiling was mostly white, ornated with golden swirls. She missed the cramped, ugly Maru.

The tourist space ship 'Andrea Gloria' was approximately the size of the Andromeda. It had enormous lounge, twelve observation decks and a ball room the size of one deck. Everything was dripping with lavishness and extravagance. Beka felt like a little girl, lost in a twisted dream. Her mother's world came down on her and knocked her out cold.

Rhade, on the other hand, got used to such views on Tarazed and was by no means intimidated. He hid his bone blades under clothing and was passing for a regular entrepreneur, who just happened to travel with his lovely wife. Not a very successive entrepreneur, as they had a cabin in the cheapest part of the ship, but still.

"Funny," Beka smiled, following the swirls on the ceiling with the movement of her stretched out hand. "The Magog Worldship is approaching. The Abyss is about to annihilate the known universe. The Commonwealth is falling apart… And we are sitting on a luxury boat sailing a dreamy nebula… With hundreds of snobs."

"I wouldn't call that funny," Rhade was unpacking his bag. Beka glanced at him and noticed that every item of clothing was neatly folded. Pedantic.

"Why not?" she rolled over on the bed and now was dangling her legs in the air. "The universe is falling apart and we are about to get prepared for the Captain's Ball. Pathetic."

She didn't manage to fish Fohn the Perseid from the crowd. There was quite a number of Perseids aboard, which kind of surprised her. Captain's Ball was a great opportunity to find what they were looking for: every passenger was invited and it was not _bon tone _to reject the invitation.

"Rommie said she packed me a little something she just synthesized," Beka thought the silence awkward. "In case there was a formal reception."

"She's extremely predictive," observed Rhade. He sat on the edge of his coach and rested chin on folded hands. Maybe he was waiting for her to say something more. She just wasn't in the mood for any kind of confessions.

"I'll see what she managed to synthesize," she stood up and started unpacking. Whatever there was the moment before, vanished.

---

The little something proved to be a black dress with a corset, which tightly clung to Beka's body, stressing it's curves. She felt strangely out of character, wrapped in a silk skirt. She put on a necklace made of black space rocks that glimmered in shade like diamonds. A matching set of earrings glistened through her hair.

She even attempted to put on a little makeup. Something to tint the lips and stress the greenness of the eyes.

She pouted the lips to her reflection and turned around, letting the dress flow around her legs. Then she pushed the hair away from the eyes.

"Try putting it up," she heard Rhade from behind. She saw him in the mirror, buttoning up the elegant dark jacket with a stand-up collar. He looked… Stunning. That was the word she was searching for.

"Up?" she reached for the hair and gathered it in hand, then tried to do something with it. He moved closer, just a step away from her.

"Like this…" he paused. "May I?"

She just nodded. _Flabbergasted Valentine. Good going girl. Simply great. Why don't you just take off your clothes already?_

His hands were surprisingly warm. She felt his touch on the neck and shivered softly. He must have noticed that. Beka closed her eyes. This was not an innocent touch. The touch in the Med was not guiltless as well. Her mind raced from one event to another and she was discovering new things. New meanings to words once uttered.

_You have told yourself: never again. No more Nietzscheans in your life, Valentine. They are all the same. Calculating bastards._

"Like this," he repeated and she opened her eyes.

He was holding her hair up, uncovering the neck. The tips of the hair formed a feather-like fountain above her head. In this hairstyle, the neck looked even longer. The earrings shimmered, reflecting light.

"Nice," she muttered, then cleared her throat. "Thanks. I think the girls packed me some hair pins… Thanks."

_Yeah, really nice work, Valentine. What are you, twelve and dumbstruck?_

At least all of this made her forget a bit about the past events. And the hollowness inside was filling. Slowly. With something else. But it was not a bad thing.

Not the worst thing possible.

Could have been worse, right?

---

"I still don't see him," Beka took a glass of intoxicating liquor from the passing waitress and sipped a little. "I guess we need to mingle some more, how I hate that…"

Rhade smiled on her complaints. "Why Mrs. Larkin… Let's pretend you are having a great time… And we are passing the ball room for the fifth time to admire the views."

"Let's, Mr. Larkin."

The crowd of well dressed snobs made Beka feel homicidal. Too many of them in too small space. True, the ball room was enormous, but not enough big for Beka. A huge observation window overlooked the almost mystical colors of the Poe Nebula. Twelve set of stairs led to an upper level, a balcony better suited for intimate conversations. Music was soft, non invasive. Something one would like to listen to while shopping.

Beka took a long look at the nebula and lifted the glass to her lips.

And there he was. Just opposite her, a few meters away. The Perseid.

Her fingers lost grip on the glass.

_("The effect is wearing off.")_

His worn out voice resonated through her head. The glass was falling, straight down, to crash on the floor.

Rhade reached out before she understood what has happened. He caught the glass, cat-like grace, not spilling a drop.

A woman who stood close clapped in admiration.

"There," Beka pointed. "It's him."

Rhade returned the glass to her. "No need to hurry," he stressed, whispering to her ear. "He doesn't know we are here. He won't run."

She nodded. Took a deep breath and then drank up the drink.

They walked slowly in the direction of the Perseid. "Do we have a plan what to do once we get to him?" Beka's eyes did not leave the target for a moment.

"I trust you'd be reasonable," Rhade replied. "He won't help us dead."

She hissed something under her breath. In the meantime, Fohn was approaching the stairs with a clear desire to reach the balcony. "Damn," Beka grunted. "Can't he stand in one place?"

They almost reached the stairs when she gasped in shock. Rhade was just about to ask her what happened, but she pushed him in the shade under the stairs. "Crap," she murmured. "They're coming this way."

"Th-" he didn't finish. Beka grabbed his neck and pulled him down, her lips meeting his.

_Surprising._

And surprising for Beka as well, as he returned the kiss.

Her body responded with force she didn't expect. As if something –something that was gathering all that time – exploded deep down inside her, spilling waves of delight down her tights. Knees felt weak and she sank down; his arms held her tight and close. _Drifting_. She was drifting. Going under.

The kiss broke and left her gasping. For air and for more.

"Who…" Rhade asked, his lips still close to hers. Painfully close. "Who were you hiding from?"

Beka took a deep breath. "A guy I once… knew," she looked over Rhade's shoulder. "I think they're coming back." And she pulled him again for a kiss.

Though his Nietzschean senses did not warn him of anyone approaching.

---

Beka fixed her hair and straightened the corset. She shot Rhade a suspicious glance, but his face was unreadable.

_Good. I don't need him all puppy-eyed. But you have to admit, Valentine… On scale 1 to 10 what would you give this guy?_

Beka coughed. "The Perseid went up," she reminded.

"I'd go," Rhade offered. "If you still feel the need… To hide."

_Oh, sardonic bastard. On scale 1 to 10…?_

"I'll just… Wait a moment. Or two."

He nodded with that ironic look of his, then left her under the stairs.

_20. On scale 1 to 10 a clear and honest 20._

---

Rhade walked up the stairs, trying to focus on the current prerogative. It was not as easy at it seemed, especially when he could feel Beka's taste. Sweet and spicy at the same time, just like her.

He did caught a glimpse of the 'guy she used to know' as she called him. A lean human with very short hair andirises so bright they seemed white. Climbing the stairs, Rhade looked back and spotted the 'guy' in the crowd. He apparently was a waiter on this ship.

Beka said 'they'. She meant the other waiters, or…?

The Perseid Fohn went to the bathroom and closed the door behind. Rhade sighed, following him.

---

Beka looked around before leaving her hideout. Not in her wildest dreams did she expect to see Danny King in this place. Danny King, working? Legally? The end is near, no doubt about that.

Hopefully he didn't notice her. After their last meeting… He would probably want some payback.

She stepped on the stairs, Rhade was nowhere to be seen. Beka looked up. A woman descending the stairs froze and opened her mouth in pure horror. Beka felt her heart stop.

Series of gunshots resonated through the ball room.

Beka turned to see Danny King –legal job my ass – pointing a gauss gun at the ceiling and at least a dozen of other men pulling out their weapons.

_Crap crap crap crap crap…_

Screams of panic filled the air. People started running chaotically, a bunch of scared animals. Beka thought of going up the stairs – and then one of the armed men appeared at the top. He aimed at a fat, balding guy who had the same idea as Beka. And shot him in the head.

Woman's shriek rose high. Beka tried to mix in with the crowd, to escape the sight of Danny… She couldn't believe her bad luck. Everything was falling apart, whatever she touched turned into pure dust.

_Rhade, wherever you are now, stay there!_

Stay there. Don't do anything stupid…

"Holy shit!" she heard a familiar voice and cursed. "Last time you were red!"

Danny King's gun was pointed at her chest and he was smiling from ear to ear like a dumb idiot. "Long time no see, honey!"

Crap was an understatement.

- - -

* * *

Beka never had luck with men... The Andromeda creators somehow found it suitable to give Dylan a lip-locking scene and a nice, good lady in almost every episode, but for Beka there was only... bad choosing. I understand a woman can be dumb in love. But that? At least they should have given her a nice guy in the end. NOT DYLAN. No way.

Anyway, I had to devise my own 'Beka's past guy'. A scum, like the rest of them -- let's keep in with the tradition. I think she's becoming aware of the fact that Rhade is there for her... Though she's going through the denial stage.

OK, as I promised, a substantial moment. Ah, the 'hair scene' was not in the original version, I came up with it on the spot. Just though it'd look good and kind of tense. The kiss, on the other hand... Well, You did see it coming, don't You? For Beka the hot-head, that was the only thing she could think of at the moment... And if it didn't work the way she planned it...

The next chapter is still being written and it's getting longer than I expected. Valentine's bad luck proves itself again, and the ex-boyfriend and his merry band of space pirates are not the only people rampaging the Andrea Gloria... That's for the teaser.

I didn't change the title. How. Absolutely. Pathetic.

Thanks for the reviews! Fueled by them I'll do my best to finish the next chapter and get going with the story... There is still so much to tell.


	15. The Chasm

**Chapter 14: The Chasm**

_Out of life's school of war: What does not destroy me, makes me stronger. _

_Friedrich Nietzsche__, The Twilight of the Idols (1899)  
_

---

The men's toilet was empty but for the Perseid, who was looking at his reflection and fiddling with a small flask. His hands were shaking.

"Flash's not good for you," Rhade leaned on the doorframe. "Actually, neither is conducting illegal surgeries."

Fohn jumped up letting go of the flask, which dropped on the floor and disappeared under the sink. "Who?..."

Rhade walked slowly towards him, blocking the door. "We seriously need to talk, doctor Fohn. About that last job you had."

Then the gun fire torn the air.

---

The pulse in Beka's head was running wild. She could hear it go _bum_ and _bum_ again, like a damned bell hitting on the temples. The screams in the background muffled. As if they were there, but miles away.

"All dressed up, baby," Danny King grinned with admiration. "Found yourself a wealthy stud?"

Beka did not play with face-slapping. Knowing the skirt of the dress was wide enough, she slammed her shin into his groin. Next thing, she had three guns aimed at her head. Peachy.

Danny was trying to get up, obviously in great pain.

"Aw, honey," Beka returned the grin. "You should have protected yourself. Remember the last time we danced?"

She thought he's going to hit her. He looked that way for a moment. Then he turned from her. "Get those shitheads from the balcony!" he shouted orders. "Check everything. Under the tables, the can, every-fuckin'-where!"

"Since when are you a pirate, Danny-boy?" Beka breathed in to keep herself composed.

"Since I'm getting paid," he snapped. "Right, Ortiz, you think you can take it from here? Me and my baby are going to have a private talk somewhere else."

A bearded guy, presumably Ortiz, nodded and smirked, eyeing Beka.

"Ike, care to lend me a hand here?" Danny waved at a muscle guy in the security uniform. Great, they were everywhere.

Ike grabbed Beka by her waist and flung her up, onto his shoulder. She was kicking like hell, pounding on his back with fists, but it didn't help a little bit.

"Feisty," Danny smiled. "Just as I like you, buttercup."

Ike carried her out, following Danny. Beka could watch the 'aristocratic snobs' as she called them, sitting cuddled on the floor, petrified. She could look deep into their eyes and she felt bad, not feeling sympathy.

---

Toilet's door flung open, hitting the wall. A blonde man with an earring looked in, his hand gun at the ready.

Not seeing a living soul, he looked back. Coughed, relaxed, and walked towards the mirror. He admired himself for a minute, fixed the hair and finally pointed the gun at his reflection.

"Are you talking to me? You, talking to me? Ha! Didn't think so…"

Rhade, hidden behind the air vent with a scared to death Perseid clinging to his side, rolled his eyes.

_What's with Beka? Hope she stays low. Don't do anything stupid…_

The blonde 'tough-guy' left the restroom.

"W-why d-d-didn't you…?" Fohn was staggering; it occurred to Rhade that he didn't take the Flash doze. The fear may soon change into excessive agitation and that will consist a serious problem.

"Because the rest would notice his absence," he answered. The air condition system was not the most comfortable place on the Andrea Gloria, but it's corridors were decently larger than the standard ones. At least the Nietzschean could move around without bumping his head every once in a while.

"Beka," Rhade activated the VSA, a tricky "vocal to sub-audio" device that Harper had installed them before the departure. Though the tiny midget did brag a little that Nietzscheans should not get one. "Beka, come in. If you cannot talk, cough twice."

The Perseid looked at Rhade with suspicion. "Are you, by any chance, schizophrenic?"

Rhade ignored him. "Beka, any sign would be good."

After a while that lasted far too long for Rhade's taste, he heard Beka's voice in his ear. Though she wasn't talking to him.

"So, Danny. Yourbig and heavily armed friend is apparently carrying me down the stairs to… Where? No, I will not shut up. So where are we? Captain's quarters? My, my, it's deck five, isn't it?..."

Rhade pulled out a tiny flexi pad from an inner pocket and looked through the schemata.

"What is this?" Fohn looked over his shoulder. "The plan of this ship? Where did you get that? Are you sure you're not a terrorist?"

Rhade shot him a glance after which the Perseid closed his mouth. Hopefully, that'll do for a little while. "Follow me," he ordered, starting to crawl on hands and knees through the narrow corridor. "And try not to make too much noise."

---

Ike dropped Beka straight on the bed. She bounced on the soft mattress. The Captain sure had a nice, double bed. Quite unusual, actually. Still, taking into consideration it was a tourist ship and the cruise took three nights…

Danny waved Ike to leave. He still had his gun aimed at Beka as he sunk in a armchair opposite the bed.

"So?" he asked. "You have something to tell me? Other than that stupid ramblings you did back then?"

"No," Beka crossed arms on her chest. "I'm waiting for you to apologize."

Danny bellowed laughter. "What!"

"You disappeared with my cargo. Eight years ago."

"Details."

"Compared to what you're doing now? Yeah. Details."

Suddenly everything moved. The world – Andrea Gloria – shook as if something hit her. And then she was still. The chandelier was still dangling unsteadily.

"What was that?" Beka looked around.

"Nothing," Danny cut off. "The engines, maybe. Who cares now?"

"We hit something," Beka nervously scanned her surroundings in search for something apt for defense. "Shouldn't you check that out?"

"Now that I have nice prospects of getting even?" Danny's left lip corner went up in a smirk she used to like. A long time ago. "Baby, I missed our bedside stories."

He got up from the armchair and approached Beka, the gun still aimed. She didn't move.

"You're seriously messed up," _Beka, this isn't helping you…hell, it's not like it can get any worse, so why should you go easy on him?..._

"Lay back," he stopped with legs touching the side of the bed.

Beka laughed into his face. "You have one hell of a way to deal with women."

"You used to like it," his gun was pointing at her forehead.

"Yeah. I was young and inexperienced. From the time perspective, you were below mediocre."

He pushed her, his weight pinning her down. Once again she landed on the soft mattress, which gave way, embracing her.

"Below mediocre?... Aw, honey. I was trying to be nice."

Her outstretched hand grabbed the decorative paperweight on the Captain's night table. Just what she wanted. And he was where she wanted him to be.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to be nice."

The paper weight landed on his skull with a kind of a juicy sound that made Beka squirm. He collapsed on top of her. "Aw, honey…" Beka hissed, pushing the limp body aside. "What have you been eating? Heavy, dumb, sorry excuse for an ass…"

Something fell from the ceiling and landed by the bed. Beka jolted up, grabbing Danny's gun and aiming at…

Rhade.

"Fashionably late," she noted. "I had to knock him down myself."

Rhade helped her up. "Excellent work, I must admit."

Beka smiled and looked up, at the hole in the ceiling and a Perseid, staring down. "I see you've found our friend," she smirked.

"Speaking of which, there seem to be a lot of your 'friends' on this ship," Rhade cocked his head.

"That's just _mean_," Beka secured the gun and tried to find a place she could holster it. With no success. "I only knew this one over there and that was a long time ago."

"Erm, excuse me…" Fohn waved from the hole. "Could you, please, pause the flirting for a second… and help me get down?"

"Well, excuse _me_," Beka placed her free hand on her hip and went into the patronizing mode, "but when did you get the right to speak unasked?"

"I'm sorry, lady, do I know you?"

"Duh. Remember the lady you've cut open you son of a-"

Rhade put his hand over her mouth and placed a finger on his lips. "Behind the door," he whispered. Now Beka too could hear footsteps approaching. Heavy boots on the metal deck.

_And it's getting better and better every passing minute…_

Rhade pointed at the hole in the ceiling. Beka frowned. "How the hell am I going to get up there in this freaking dress?" she hissed into his ear. His eyebrow raised in a way she not quite liked… Especially when there was this faint, a bit mischievous smile flickering around the corners of his lips.

He lifted her and tossed up in the air. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed the edges of the hole – the Perseid wisely backed away – and started climbing. Rhade pushed her up, surprisingly paying attention not to touch any 'strategic' places. This made her even more irritated. Once she was up, laying on her stomach and gazing down the hole, Rhade threw her the cover of the air vent.

"Hold it," he mouthed. She nodded, reaching out and leaving enough space in the hole for him to climb. Again, she was surprised at how high can a Nietzschean actually jump. The moment Rhade placed himself at her side and put the air vent cover in its slots, the Captain's quarter's door opened.

---

Beka could see what was going on below through the narrow slots in the vent cover. For the moment, all there was visible was the bed and Danny's motionless body. She was wondering if he was alive. She hit him pretty hard and the object was not light either…

The steps were moving closer. Beka thought that those who just walked in are not at all interested in Danny. Typical: the dumb ass picked wrong men for his merry pirate band. Now they're probably thrilled with excitement that the boss is dead and there is more to go around.

Or maybe not.

She felt Rhade's muscles tense as a man walked into their field of vision. He kind of seemed familiar… A bit. She squinted her eyes and tilted the head. Now if that man would just turn to the left…

The man looked up.

Beka could not resist this stupid thought that he is looking straight through her… No, straight _at_ her. His eyes were like cold steel, not grey and not blue. Like steel.

Middle-aged. Balding. Very lean, the cheekbones were protruding. The nose was long and pointed. Lips thin but curved. There was something to him that was… Carnivorous.

For a moment that seemed eternity, the predatory man was looking at the air vent. His upper lip curved, revealing a row of perfectly white, perfectly even teeth. It could have been a smile. Beka felt her heart freeze in a bathe of icy liquid.

The man turned his gaze from the vent.

And then he spoke. Glass breaking in his larynx. The voice that would have made Beka jump if it wasn't for Rhade, holding her against his chest. She reached out, touched the bone blades under the sleeve of his jacket and felt a bit more secure. The firm grip on the gun helped too.

"Go," said the man she was scared to meet face to face. "Find her. Unharmed."

Footsteps were moving away. The man looked at Danny, kicked his limp leg, dangling from the bed. Danny didn't move. The man once again barred his teeth in a grimace that must have been a smile.

"Amazing creature," he said to himself, leaving.

---

* * *

Alas, poor Danny, we barely knew you... 

Oh, nevermind.

Finally, the villain shows up. In -almost- full glory. And if you're curious whose face I had in mind when picturing him, try this guy: Colm Feore. Here's the IMD site of his: http/ So the kiss stays undiscussed. I guess that in the current circumstances, this can be forgiven. The issues 'in-between' need to wait for a better moment and You can trust Beka to be sarcastic and defiant all the time...

Next time (when i finnish the chapter;)) we'll visit the Andromeda (Dylan feels better...) and see what do Perseids do when faced with a perspective of violent death. Plus many more. (end of a teaser)

To all my Great Reviewers many thanks! I've bought myself a Live CD "Awake" and I'm currently charging my writing batteries...


	16. Die with Grace

**Chapter 15: Die with Grace**

_There are more pleasant things to do than beat up people. _

_Muhammad Ali  
_

---

Harper couldn't see or hear Trance entering the Machine Shop, as he had protective glasses and earphones on his head. The sparks were flying, miraculously not landing in his spiky hair. There was something like desperation in his tiny posture. And frustration.

Trance sighed. It seemed like everyone was trying to vent their tension through workout. Beka, back then in the gym. Rhade as well. Dylan, doing exercises when he thought Trance can't notice. As if there was something about him she couldn't notice. And now Harper, working furiously in his beloved Machine Shop, though there was no urgent call. Couldn't they just sit down and talk? It would have been so much easier if they did. All of them.

Trance touched Harper's shoulder, to make him aware of her presence. He jumped, startled.

"Trancie?" Harper switched of the machine, took the earphones and glasses… And jumped again. "What is tha… You… You have…"

"A tail," Trance helped him. "I know. I missed it."

"B-b-but how?"

Trance shrugged with a smile.

"Ok, all right," Harper took a deep breath. "You're officially weird. Why didn't you do that sooner?"

"Well, things are beginning too look up," she said, her tail, now golden and shimmering but still pointed at the tip, was moving gracefully behind her back. If a cat was moving it's tail like that it would mean it's agitated. Harper didn't know what it meant with Trance. "I though it's about time to have it back. Plus, I got a bit sentimental."

"Sentimental," Harper puffed. "Ha. Things looking up. With Boss and the Nietzschean on the love boat? Sure, fine, whatever."

"And you're still nagging about Rhade," Trance put on the patronizing tone.

"Excuse me? Have you forgotten what the last resident Nietzschean did to Beka? To us all? One can feel a bit uneasy around the current specimen with bone blades, now can't one."

"Harper, you alone should know that judging people at first sight is not only impolite, but totally inaccurate."

"Yeah, well, judging people, not Nietzscheans."

Trance sighed aloud. "Sometimes I think you're utterly hopeless."

As Harper was about to give her a proper answer, Adromeda's holo appeared in between them.

"I've picked up a distress beacon from Andrea Gloria," she said, looking from one to another. "You are asked to the Command, now."

"See?" Harper pointed at Trance when the holo disappeared. "Things looking up? Maybe on the prospects of us getting killed or seriously injured."

---

"You've finished already?" Beka was getting nervous. She held Danny's gun but it was a little comfort against what they could run into. So far the corridors of Andrea Gloria were empty and quiet. Beka had read a horror novel which began with a similar scene and she didn't like the ending.

"I'm not Harper," Rhade replied, busy with hacking the ship's system. "I think the distress call has been sent… I've also attached a coded message only for Andromeda to decipher."

Beka raised an eyebrow. "Well. Um. Keep it up. But hurry."

Fohn the Perseid was pacing a meter away, muttering something under his nose. Beka looked around the corner then turned to Rhade, who was placing the wall panel back where he ripped it from. All consoles they found were jammed and he had to get to the inside bowels of the ship's wire system. At least there was no AI looking at their hands while they were digging through the electronics.

"What now?" Beka eyed Fohn. "He's of no use now."

They didn't talk much about the man –the Boogeyman, as Beka called him – but they both knew who he was. Suddenly all the effort taken to find the Perseid seemed wasted, as the very kidnapper himself arrived upon the deck of Andrea Gloria. Fohn lost his value as fast as Commonwealth credits after Witchead.

"He's agitated," continued Beka. "Didn't take Flash when he wanted and he's losing it. We are going to risk it big time, if we keep on tagging him along."

"And your suggestion is…?"

Beka licked her upper lip. "Shot him."

"Waste of ammunition."

"Fine, brake his neck." And as Rhade gave her a rather awkward look, she continued. "I have a sort of personal issues with everyone who cut me open, enough said."

Fohn heard that. His head jolted up and he was looking at Beka, his hands shaking violently. As she made a move in his direction, he gasped and run, without looking back, disappearing over the corner.

"There," Beka smiled. "That should do it. He'll draw the attention from us."

"Or lead them back to us," Rhade stated.

"Your everlasting Nietzschean optimism is unsurpassed," Beka patted his shoulder.

Fohn's screaming resonated through empty corridors.

"He's coming back," Rhade sighed.

Beka looked around the corner and hid instantly. "Shit." She looked back at Rhade and bit her lip. "OK, you were right. Satisfied?"

"Not really. The pirates?"

"Nope, fancy dressed, heavily armed bunch of troopers. And I'm not joking right now."

Fohn run past them, waving his arms and screaming. It looked kind of like a scene from the cheap slapstick comedy Harper would watch.

"Right…" Beka raised the gun. "Stay and fight or follow the Perseid?"

---

Dylan was feeling much better now. Finally. But when he saw Harper and Trance walk to the Command, he though he is going delusional again.

Trance had a tail. She even used it to operate the console.

Dylan blinked.

"Yup, Boss," Harper nodded. "I had the same. She re-grew it."

"Fascinating," Dylan's eyebrows arched in awe. Trance smiled in return.

If Rommie was surprised, she didn't show it. "The distress call was issued ten standard minutes ago and has been repeating on a loop," she explained. "There is also a message attached. Coded."

"Can you decipher?" Dylan asked.

Rommie gave him the 'Rommie look'. Harper got that a lot, Dylan only at times. The look said: of course I can, I have a mind the size of a planet.

"Andrea Gloria under attack. Pirates. Beka's kidnapper. Numbers: unknown. Assistance would be much appreciated."

Dylan smirked. "Much appreciated?"

"That's what it says," Rommie answered.

"Nietzscheans…" Dylan shook his head.

---

A group of five 'fancy dressed, heavily armed' troopers marched around the corner. Covered from head to toe in black, they handled large pulse rifles with movement sensors. In the luxurious corridor, stepping on fluffy carpets, they looked completely out of place.

Beka placed her free hand on the hip and aimed at the guy in the middle.

"Hello, boys!" she smiled. "Unharmed, remember?"

The troopers stopped, taken aback by her sight: a lonely woman on the corridor, their prime target simply walking into their hands.

Beka cocked her head and shot the guy in the middle.

Or she tried.

A sort of a blueish aura appeared around the man and neutralized the shot.

"You've got to be kidding…" Beka opened her mouth in sheer surprise. She did nothing to run.

This deck's ceiling was ornated with bas relieves and it was easy for Rhade to cling to it, invisible for those who didn't look up. When he let go and fell down on the five armed men, he had the element of surprise on his side – and it soon turned out that whatever the blue aura was, it did not shield from bone blades.

Beka watched with awe, admiring the swiftness with which the Nietzschean moved. There was not a motion redundant. Soon all five troopers were laying on the floor, either dead or dying.

"What was that thing?" Beka run towards Rhade, who was putting up a pulse rifle. "I couldn't shot the bastard!"

Rhade pointed the rifle at one of the bodies and shot. The aura appeared again, enveloping the dead body. "Wonderful," he smirked. "Even a pulse can't get through."

Beka looked at the gun in her hand. "I don't like knowing my weapon is useless."

Rhade knelt down by the body he shot at and started checking. "Must be some sort of an energy shield," he explained. Then he though of something and smiled to himself. "Harper would go crazy knowing that someone perfected such a trinket before him…"

"Well, it's technically not that perfect," Beka observed. "Your bone blades did just fine."

He shot her a look she didn't decipher.

Beka put down the gun and began searching the bodies herself. She found a knife, rather short for effective combat, but beggars can't be choosers. She saw Rhade examining a strange looking armband. He held it in one hand, still keeping the pulse rifle in the other. She was about to ask him if that's the thing responsible for the aura when he stood up and turned in the direction Fohn disappeared.

That was the moment Beka heard footsteps. She remembered herself thinking: _the carpet. It's because of the bloody carpet_. Next second three things happened simultaneously, merged into one in her head. The sound a pulse rifle makes when firing. Rhade's body, flung past her and slamming into the wall. The blue aura that flickered around him and disappeared.

She heard her own voice – shouting his name in absolute terror. She was almost sure her heart stopped.

The Boogeyman –this name sort of suited him well – was standing a few meters away, more than ten troopers behind him. "Ms. Valentine…!" she involuntarily shivered at the sound of his voice. "What a nice surprise!"

"Shut up," she muttered, not facing him. Clutching the knife and getting little comfort from the grip, she run towards Rhade, half seated by the wall and trying to get up.

"You have more luck than brains, Nietzschean," the Boogeyman did not move. From where he was standing, he could see everything perfectly. He didn't expect anyone escaping him anytime soon. Ever. "The shield needs to be synchronized with the body in order to protect… Technically, she should be dead."

Beka knelt down beside Rhade. He coughed out blood but his eyes were not clouded. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. The Boogeyman was bragging about something in the distance, she didn't bother to listen.

"Take the rifle," Rhade whispered into her ear. Before she started to protest that it's no use anyway, he continued. "You see that panel, up there on the wall? On the right."

She turned slightly, catching the said panel in the corner of her eye. She nodded.

"Shot it," he asked. "I still see double."

She couldn't help smiling. "Double the Beka, double the fun."

"One is sufficiently enough," he smiled back.

Beka grabbed the rifle, turned and aimed. One shot was all it took. The panel burst into flames and the same instant a sliding door, hidden in the wall, cut the corridor in halves, leaving the Boogeyman and his joyful band at the other side.

"Wow," Beka admired the tough looking metal door. "Fire bulkhead."

Rhade stood up, with a little aid of the wall. "It won't hold them for long," he noted. "We need to move."

Beka gave him a slightly mischievous smile. He was standing, talking and – evidently – thinking straight. There was no need to worry. She remembered her heart skipping a beat and pushed this memory aside. Maybe for later.

"We can't just play hide and seek forever," she placed the rifle's stripe across her chest, looking more than ridiculous. "I say we do something the jackass behind the door doesn't expect."

"Like what?" Rhade did not throw away the armband/shield. In the end it's better to be a bit shaken but not entirely dead.

"Like…" Beka tilted her head, "…let's rescue the aristocratic snobs. And sabotage the ship. Or the other way round."

"Not the brightest survival strategy," Rhade sounded a bit cynical, but he was smiling.

"We'll discuss that after we survive, deal?" and she walked down the corridor. He had to follow.

At least he stopped seeing double.

---

* * *

It took me far too long to update, I know. Life got in the way... From now on it can take me longer to update; the update-a-day schedule gets shifted to update-when-possible schedule. Sorry... I'll do my best, especially when the characters are in such situation;) 

Oh dear. I've just noticed the internet address i gave last time didn't show up. I have to figure how to put an internet address here, as it keeps on disappearing. It doesn't like me I guess...

Right, My Dear Readers and Reviewers, bear with me. Soon another update. Till then, thanks for the reviews and kind words! Take care!


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